


Fates of the Sinners

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ASL, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artist!Dean, Chuck is a retired pastor, Chuck is an abusive father, Deaf, Deaf Character, Deaf!Dean, Homophobia, Kidnapping, M/M, Michael is a pastor, Recreational Drug Use, Small Towns, Southern Attitude, Torture, Trigger warning: abuse, Writer!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1256269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel would like to think maybe it was just poor choices, but the truth was, his life had been ruined for being gay.  Jobless, homeless, penniless after paying off his final lawyer’s bill, Castiel was heading home with his tail between his legs.	So yeah, it was sucky, but with any hope, Castiel would find something worth living for again.</p><p>He deserved it.  And it sounded like Dean did, too.  Whatever lay down the road, it wouldn’t be the same for either of them, and that’s what kept Cas afloat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay quick notes. I've never been to this place in Kansas, so consider it an alternate Universe Eudora, no offense intended at all. I just looked up a county near Lawrence to use as my setting. Secondly this will have 2 parts, and hopefully I'll have the next one up soon. The rating is for later chapters, it was just a preemptive choice because otherwise I know I'd forget. Lastly, the characters are out of character, and I tried to keep them a little close, but Dean especially isn't totally the hard-ass Dean Winchester. And my headcanon has been ignoring the last few new episodes of Supernatural and Sam's sudden shitty attitude because just no. That Sam doesn't exist to me. Any questions feel free to ask. Thanks!

He felt a sharp pang in his gut as he passed the sign which read Eudora, Kansas. And yeah he’d been back once or twice over the years, when his sister got married, and when his little brother graduated, but this was different. This was admitting defeat, admitting his overly-religious, homophobic father was right. Being gay would ruin his life.

And yeah, Castiel would like to think maybe it was just poor choices, but the truth was, his life had been ruined for being gay. Jobless, homeless, penniless after paying off his final lawyer’s bill, Castiel was heading home with his tail between his legs.

He passed by the little church he’d spent nearly every waking hour at, from school to free time, and he shuddered. His father’s name, Rev Chuck Shurley, still emblazoned on the side, despite the fact his oldest brother Michael had taken over at least ten years ago.

He passed by the gas station he’d worked at when he was sixteen, and the little corner store he’d shared his first kiss with the town’s football star who later threatened to tell the entire school Castiel had forced him if he said anything. That was the day he knew he had to get out.

Rounding the corner, Castiel spotted the house way up on the hill, the one his brother Gabriel had envied and claimed one day he’d own. Well at least something worked out, right? Gabriel didn’t live there, but he owned it, running a small nightclub with, what Gabriel said was, surprising popularity. He turned down the street and saw his brother’s small property in the distance. Nestled in the row of houses, over-grown vines and white shutters dripping with that old Southern charm, Gabriel had a guest room waiting.

Castiel sighed, knowing it could be worse. A lot worse. Right now he had a bed to sleep on, a car to drive, and despite it meaning he’d have to work for Gabriel, a job to call his own. Tending bar was a far cry from teaching at a prestigious University like Harvard, but he was blackballed from any school with any sort of reputation. Or, as Castiel discovered after submitting over a dozen applications to several community colleges, even ones without a reputation to speak of at all.

It was when he spent his last fifty bucks to fill up his car he called his brother and took him up on the offer. Honestly, what the hell else was he going to do?

Rubbing his hand over his face, Castiel gunned the engine down the street, the Toyota giving off nothing more then a slightly muffled cough, and he hopped the curb to park in front of the fence. Despite the look of old Southern charm, there were broken down cars up and down the street. They were close enough to consider themselves big city, but the residents here would always be under-educated, down-on-their-luck country folk.

Castiel killed the engine and sighed as he stepped out, wincing at the surprising cold for it being only September. He grabbed his sweater but ignored the bags and boxes for now. He locked his car and strolled up the path to the door. The porch groaned under the weight of his feet, the boards sagging precariously, but that was typical of Gabriel. For all the flamboyant energy the man had, he was never one for upkeep, even on his own home.

There was a faded yellow sticky-note on the mail drop tacked up next to the door, and Castiel ripped it off.

Key’s in the plant, be home by 9. Laterz.

Castiel found the key nestled just under some extra dry dirt covering the long-dead roots of some sadly neglected houseplant. He brushed the dust from his fingers as he put the key into the lock and turned it. He was met with a wave of weed smell and incense, and he gave a cough. The place was neat enough, if not a little dusty. The small kitchen table directly to the right, which blocked the entrance to the even smaller kitchen was covered in candy wrappers and a half-covered, half-eaten chocolate cake. Castiel had to wonder how many of Gabe’s teeth were his own still.

He’d been in Gabe’s place before, so he didn’t need a tour. His new quarters were on the opposite side of the master bedroom, down a small hall, across from the closet which contained the water heater.

Gabe had done him the favor of sprucing it up with fresh sheets, and even left the window open to air out the pot smell which permeated nearly everything in the home. Castiel dropped down on the mattress and felt a lump grow tight in the back of his throat. But no, he would not cry. Castiel had never been one to show his emotions. Not like that, anyway. Yes, his life was falling apart, and yes, he was down further with no real hope of pulling back up. But he had hope. He would work on his book, like he’d always vowed to do. Now he had real, intense, angsty emotions to tap into, which was a huge help for a guy who didn’t really do well with human feelings.

So yeah, it was sucky, but with any hope, Castiel would find something worth living for again.

~*~

“So…. I mean, it’s not complicated, right?” Gabriel leaned against the counter, a bar rag hanging from his hand as he crossed his arms. “You got this?”

“Yeah I’ve done this sort of work in the past,” Castiel said, feeling a little uncomfortable in his bar apron. Yeah, he’d tended bar near campus his first year of studying. But this was likely going to be a lot different than pouring over-priced scotches for Harvard Bar patrons. With the flashing lights, disco ball, heavy bass, and club look, Castiel was going to have to work to get shit right. But that’s what he was here for. He would earn his keep while he figured out his life.

“Sorry we didn’t get to talk much before, bro,” Gabriel said as he started counting the money in the cash drawer. “I know shit’s just hit the fan for you, and you know, we can schedule in some sibling time or whatever. If you need it.”

“Thank you, but no. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah yeah, you damn robot,” Gabe said, his accent creeping through making the last word sound like “robet”. Gabriel finished with the drawer and then signaled to the kid at the door to turn on the open sign. It was now or never, and Castiel didn’t know if he had it in him.

Three hours in, it was near midnight, and Castiel was exhausted but sort of getting it. Sort of. Luckily these gyrating, drugged up twinks really just wanted overly-sweet frozen drinks, or bottles of beer, and that Castiel could do. Occasionally they got complicated, but half the time the customers forgot they had ordered anyway and returned half an hour later wanting something different.

Gabe, for his part, was manning the music and the door, along with a giant of a man who went by the name of Benny and was barely understandable under his heavy, Cajun accent. In his thermal shirt, suspenders, and cabbie hat, he should look ridiculous, but ended up just looking like he would sooner cut out your heart and eat it in front of you than help you out the door.

The party seemed to be winding down as the hallucinogenics and narcotics started to wear off the patrons. People were leaving right around one, and it was half past when a moose of a man walked through the door and waved to Gabriel. Gabe, who was standing behind the DJ booth, made a weird movement with his hand, and the moose, who seemed to understand, walked up to the bar.

Castiel sized him up, thinking he looked a little familiar, but couldn’t place him. “Hello,” Castiel said, wiping up a spilled bit of cherry juice staining the bartop.

“Hey. You must be Gabe’s brother? He said you were coming in.” The moose’s voice was low and rumbling, but pleasing to listen to, and it only took a minute for Castiel to realize the reason the moose sounded so familiar with Gabe was they were dating.

“I’m Castiel.”

“Sam.” He extended his giant paw and shook Castiel’s hand. “You enjoying it so far?”

Castiel tried not to roll his eyes. “It’s a far cry from what I’m used to, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“Yeah, Gabe mentioned something about you being a teacher?” Sam shook his head when Castiel offered him a drink, trying to deflect from giving any details about his situation. Though, if this Sam really was dating Gabe, his loose-jawed brother probably told him every gritty detail.

“So Sam,” Castiel said as he tidied up the little container they kept the bar fruits in, “what do you do?”

“Lawyer,” Sam said, and when Castiel raised an impressed eyebrow, Sam waved him off. “Trust me, it’s not glamorous or particularly lucrative. Especially here. I’d probably have better luck out in Lawrence but I just can’t bring myself to go back there.”

Castiel was about to question him when Benny strolled up, a pensive look on his face. “Winchester,” he said, and then signaled to Castiel he wanted a beer.

As Castiel bent down to get a Bass Ale, the flavor Benny’d been guzzling all night, it hit him. Winchester. He knew the name well. Sam had to be the baby rescued from the house fire which killed his mother. By an older brother, if Castiel recalled correctly. There was something significant about that fact, too, but all Castiel remembered was the boys’ father going completely insane after the fire and the boys ended up in foster care until an uncle came and got them out. They settled in Eudora but were years behind Castiel, and by the time they were in high school, Castiel was long headed to University.

With his typical, quiet observation, Castiel watched Sam and Benny exchange rather tense conversation until Gabriel climbed down from the DJ booth. He handed Benny a wad of cash and the tall Cajun tipped his hat to him.

“Thanks brother. See you Thursday.”

When he was out of earshot, Sam huffed and turned to Gabe. “I don’t know why you let that punk-ass wolf-man work for you.”

“Do we seriously have to have this conversation every night? Every night?” Gabe pressed.

Sam rolled his eyes away from Gabe. “I just don’t understand why. After everything…”

“It takes two, you realize,” Gabe snapped. “Two. And I understand that Saint D—”

“Do not go there,” Sam interrupted. “Look, I’ve had a long day. Why don’t I see you later?”

“Yeah whatever.” Gabe turned away from Sam who hopped off the barstool and grabbed his coat.

“Nice to meet you, Castiel.” And with that, he was out the door.

“Is it a good idea to end the night with an argument?” Castiel asked as Gabe came around the bar to close up. “That seemed serious?”

“That?” Gabe glanced at the door which was now swinging shut. “Nah, he’s like that every night. I mean every night. Sometimes I get a great lay out of it, and sometimes he goes home and sulks. That’s just who he is.”

Castiel was partly curious about what Benny had done to offend Sam so badly. He’d obviously hurt someone, betrayed them. But whatever it was, it wasn’t Castiel’s business. He kept his mouth shut as he cleaned up, collected his rather sizable tips for the night, and hitched a ride with Gabe back home. The sun was starting to peek over the horizon, and Castiel gave a huge yawn as they walked inside.

No energy for anything more than a quick piss and teeth scrub, he ignored the smell of bar on his clothes, collapsed face-first on the bed, and closed his eyes. His last thought was a jumble of emotions, and wondering if he really was going to make it through this.

Little did he know how much his life would change in just three weeks.

~*~

Castiel stepped up to the task of tending bar spectacularly. Once he found his routine, he knocked out drinks with the best of them, and despite his initial reservations, made friends with both Benny and Sam.

The lawyer lover of Gabe’s was over more than Castiel expected considering how often they fought. But he could see how the two of them just worked. And despite his constantly bitchy attitude, Sam was an okay guy. He didn’t talk much, and his personal life and history were off the table, but other than that, he was great.

And despite it being considered menial work, Castiel found himself enjoying life at the bar. Once you got past the altered states of the customers, they became quite pleasant, and he even ended up getting a few regulars and inventing a few drinks. Gabe even gushed about how much relief he was getting with Castiel there helping him.

That didn’t, however, change the fact that Castiel felt unaccomplished. He hadn’t been able to pound out more than a few sentences on his book, and the more days that passed, the more frustrated he became. It felt like a hallway with a door that just stretched on further and further, no matter how far and how fast he ran.

He was exhausting himself, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

One Friday night Castiel came into work a little late. Benny was nowhere to be found, but there was one person at the bar Castiel had never seen before. He was on one of the stools with the back, almost curled up with a notebook perched up on his crooked knee, and he was drawing furiously with a lump of charcoal.

He was stunningly attractive, though they didn’t exactly have a shortage of glamorous looking people at Gabe’s club, but something about him was different. He wore jeans and a t-shirt, both covered in paint splatters. His hair was mussed, the natural way half the guys in the bar spent hours with gel trying to achieve. His eyes, when he looked up toward Castiel, were piercing green, the color obvious and stunning even in the dim lighting. As he worked, his tongue darted out, touching the edge of his bottom lip, and Castiel felt familiar stirrings in his gut.

Panic set in, considering the last time this happened, and he quickly tried to shove down all emotion as he tied on his apron. He felt angry suddenly, angry at this man for being attractive, angry at Uriel for bailing on him when Castiel needed him most. He felt angry at himself for being vulnerable, even for just a second.

The anger shone in his voice when he said, “What do you want?” trying to be heard over the thumping music.

“I don’t care,” the man said. Castiel couldn’t hear him over the bass, but he could read the request from his lips, as he’d become accustomed to doing lately.

Still angry, Castiel quickly grabbed together liquors and juices, threw them into a blender with ice, and served something which was probably disgusting, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

The man took the drink, slid a twenty across the bar, and when Castiel pocketed the cash and didn’t offer change, he merely shrugged and sipped the drink, turning his attention back to his sketch. When the drawing was finished and the drink was gone, the man got up from the seat, nodded to Castiel, and left.

This went on for the next week.

Gabe noticed Castiel’s interest, and his odd interactions with the man, but didn’t say anything about it. The Shurley siblings had a long history of being incredibly uninvolved with each other’s private lives. Except, of course, when it came to religion or sexuality which set Castiel and Gabriel on the path to becoming outcasts, but other than that, they were a relatively tight-lipped family.

It wasn’t until late Thursday night the following week when everything shifted. Benny was still mysteriously missing, and when Castiel asked about him, Gabe gave some weak response about him visiting family in Louisiana. Castiel didn’t buy it, but there was no point in pushing the issue.

Sam was also gone to a conference in Stanford, California, his old alma mater, and Gabe actually seemed to miss him. The quiet stranger with the drawing pad was back again, drinking his horrible drink Castiel concocted, over-paying, and not noticing anything really going on around him. When he left, however, a sheet of his drawing paper fluttered to the ground and slid under one of the stools.

Even though the music was lower, when Castiel called out after him, he didn’t hear, and continued on his way out. Castiel hurried around the bar, bent to pick up the paper and went out the door, only to see the quiet stranger speeding off, the engine of an old Impala roaring down the street.

The car was definitely not what Castiel pictured him driving.

After some internal debate, Castiel turned the paper over and was surprised to find himself staring at a rather candid still of Sam. Clothed, of course, but the look on his face was sleepy, as though he’d just woken. It was incredibly familiar.

Castiel feared maybe there was something going on, and he took the drawing into Gabe’s office where his brother was doing the books. “That man at the bar, you know him?”

Gabe made a see-saw gesture with his hand. “He’s been coming in sporadically for years now.”

“Well I don’t know how to tell you this but um…” Castiel trailed off and then shoved the drawing at Gabe who took it, stared down at it, and proceeded to laugh so hard he howled.

“You… I…” he swiped at his eyes. “You don’t know who he is, do you?”

“The man at the bar?” he questioned. “No, not really.”

“His name is Dean. Winchester. As in…”

“Sam’s brother,” Castiel finished. He felt better, but also a little confused why the older Winchester never even bothered to introduce himself. “Does he live with Sam?”

“From time to time,” Gabe said, “when Sam’s not with us.”

When Castiel really thought about it, Sam was really at their house a lot. “So where does he live?”

Gabe gave flippant directions, up on Main, last house, covered in vines. He took the drawing back from Gabriel and finished up for the night. 

He wasn’t sure what made him detour, but when Gabe let him go early, it was as though his brother knew what he was going to do before he did. His car crept up Main, engine purring quietly, and he spotted the house. It was exactly as Gabe described, and Dean’s shining Impala was parked out front, half covered by a car tarp.

Shutting off the engine, Castiel sat for several minutes, not sure if he was trying to draw up enough courage to go in, or talk himself out of going in. But his mind was made up back at the bar. He grabbed the drawing and walked to the front door.

Despite the tattered look of the home, it was actually well put together, the yard clean if not overgrown, and the porch was in better condition than Gabe’s. To his left sat a pile of tools, boxes of nails, a hammer, a couple of saws in different sizes. He wondered for a moment if maybe the Winchesters might be willing to give Castiel a hand in getting Gabe’s place in order.

Reaching forward, Castiel pushed the buzzer. No sound, so he pushed again, a little harder, and though there was silence, he saw the lamp in the front window flicker. Which was… odd. He raised his hand to knock when he heard the distinct click of a lock, and he stepped back just as Dean pushed the door open.

The porch light flared to life, and Dean stared at him, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I uh…” Castiel wasn’t ever really one for words, but he was usually better than this. “You dropped this.”

Dean took the paper and opened it, his mouth quirking up into a slight smile. “Oh.” It was the first time Castiel heard Dean’s quiet, rumbling voice. It also was nothing like he expected. After a second, Dean beckoned Castiel inside and shut the door as Castiel started to ramble.

“My brother Gabriel told me you and Sam lived here. When Sam’s not with us, I guess. I um… I feel bad dropping in like this but I didn’t have your number and…” Castiel’s words were cut off when Dean grabbed his arm and spun him.

Dean’s jaw worked, he cleared his throat and then said, “You need to look at me when you speak. I need to see your mouth.” His voice was different. Muted, thick. Castiel had heard the accent before. He just hadn’t realized Dean was Deaf. The older Winchester seemed to realize that, too, because he started laughing and clapped Castiel on the shoulder. “Your brother didn’t tell you.”

“Ah… no. No he didn’t,” Castiel replied.

“And Sam?”

“Not a word. And he’s been gone.” Castiel was now terrified about making sure Dean could understand him, but he seemed to be having no trouble.

Dean huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Typical.”

Castiel, feeling more out of place now more than ever, shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well I um…”

“Would you like a drink? I have beer, juice, tea, other crap Sammy keeps around.”

Castiel opened his mouth to reply, to decline the offer, but Dean turned his back and motioned for Castiel to follow him to the kitchen.

So he did, coming to a stop near a paint-covered, scrubbed wooden table, and he leaned his arm on the back of the chair. Dean dug around the fridge and pulled out two beers. Castiel took it to be polite, but didn’t crack the top.

“So, what’s your name? Sam never mentioned.”

“Castiel.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Say again?”

“Castiel,” he repeated, his cheeks going a bit read.

Dean shook his head. “Sorry I just… not getting it.”

Digging deep down into his memory, Castiel pulled up the ASL alphabet he’d learned years before he started teaching. He almost chickened out, but eventually raised his hand and curved them into the shapes of his name.

Dean’s eyebrows rose, and his mouth quirked into a half-smile. “How about I call you Cas?” he offered, spelling out C-A-S far more rapidly than Castiel could ever hope to.

“Uh yeah okay. That’s fine.” Castiel had never gone by a nickname, but he didn’t mind it so much.

Dean nodded, taking a swig from the bottle and crossed his arms. “So thank you. For the picture.”

Cas noticed Dean spoke slowly, deliberately, and his fingers twitched telling Cas that Dean probably didn’t speak a lot when he was on his own. He felt bad, wishing he could offer Dean a better way to communicate, but then again, communication had never really been Castiel’s strong suit. The one person he bothered to open up to, in the end, screwed his entire life over.

“You okay, man?” Dean’s voice cut into Castiel’s thoughts, and he gave a little jump.

“I yeah um… it’s been a long night.” Cas put the beer down on the table, untouched, and said, “I should get going.”

Dean smiled and nodded, and made a gesture toward the door, following Cas out of the kitchen. He’d almost made it to the door when he spotted a painting in the corner that gave him pause. It wasn’t anything special. Landscape, looked a little like the pacific with the tan sandy beach, but that wasn’t what caught his eye. It was the vivid way the beach had been captured. More real, more intense than a photograph, or any painting Cas had ever seen. He half expected to see the wave crash down onto the sand.

He turned to Dean. “Did you paint that?”

Dean’s eyes flickered to the canvas and he gave a shrug. “Yes. Last year. From memory, as a child.”

“So you’re an artist?”

Dean laughed, louder than before, and his head shook. “I’m a handyman. This is…” he trailed off and shrugged. “Hobby.”

Castiel blinked rapidly, surprised by that admission. Someone with talent like this should be world renowned. Castiel had seen some fantastic artists come and go at Harvard, seem some of their fantastic work displayed in galleries littering the art district of Downtown Boston. And Dean, well Dean was better than they could ever hope to be.

“So you fix things?”

Dean shrugged. “I get hired to do repairs, paint, things like that.”

Cas shook his head. “Well it’s amazing. It really is.”

Dean’s cheeks pinked a little, but his half-amused expression didn’t change as he opened the door and let Castiel out. Cas marched down the steps toward his car, knowing all the while Dean was watching him go, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t acknowledge that he kind of liked Dean. That he felt like an ass for his behavior toward him over the last few weeks. That he misjudged the guy and really wished Gabe had given him a little more info.

But it was what it was, and as Castiel watched the house grow smaller in the distance from his mirror, he wondered if things would change between him and the Winchester.

~*~

Castiel had a night off, which he immediately regretted accepting. Initially he’d planned it in order to get some writing in, but sitting in front of his computer, he realized he couldn’t concentrate. His head was full of Dean, and full of the idea that such amazing talent was sitting in some dingy little house, going to waste.

But he had to consider maybe Dean wanted it that way. Maybe he was talented and fantastic, but didn’t want to display his art to the known world. Putting his hands over his face, Castiel let out a groan as he sat back in his chair. He was besotted, and it was the worst possible thing that could have happened. It was bad enough his life in shambles, but now he was distracted and if he wasn’t careful, he’d never get his book off the ground. He’d have to resign himself to living in his brother’s guest room and tending bar for the rest of his miserable life.

“How far the mighty has fallen.”

Castiel, who’d opted for a walk to clear his head, was unavoidably passing by his brother’s church. He’d hoped during the week, this time of day, Michael might have other plans, but no such luck. Cas put on his stoic, drawn face and turned to see his brother standing there. He wore a black turtleneck and slacks, his thick hair gelled back. He reminded Cas of those Southern Hellfire and Brimstone preachers in the movies, screaming over the pulpits and condemning everyone to firey torment in the afterlife.

And truthfully, that kind of was Michael, only he was a little more classy about it. A smooth talker, Michael always had his way with the spoken word. His voice was rich and deep, his eyes set far apart and deep in his head, giving the impression of wisdom.

No one bothered to check on his credentials, which were nothing more than sitting at the knee of his hateful father for most of his life.

“Michael,” Cas said.

“I heard you were back in town.”

“I’m sure you did,” Cas ground out, turned on his heel and started away. He sighed when Michael’s footsteps echoed his own.

“Fired. Sued. Home foreclosed. I wish I didn’t have to say I told you so…”

“You don’t have to say it,” Castiel retorted. “Your opinion is neither wanted nor welcome.”

“Ah, even after everything I predicted came true, you still reject my message.” Castiel only stopped when Michael’s hand fell on his shoulder, gripping him too tightly. Cas had felt that kind of pressure before, from his father right before Chuck tried to beat the gay out of him. He’d felt it from Michael, too, when Chuck would get tired.

“I’m not a child any longer, and my choices are no longer any of your business. I’ll thank you to take your hand off my person.” Cas carefully removed Michael’s hand, and his older brother allowed it.

“You don’t have to accept the life of sin, you know. Even our dear brother Gabriel isn’t a lost cause.”

Cas laughed bitterly. “Yeah the only lost cause you’ve ever accepted is Luce.” He was referring to his brother, Lucifer as he now went by when he changed his name to spite his family. Chuck and Michael had managed to get him diagnosed schizophrenic and had him forcibly committed. He now lived out the rest of his life drugged into oblivion.

“You know not to say his name to me, Castiel,” Michael hissed.

Cas found himself flinching, an old habit, but he rolled his eyes and took a step back from his brother. “You no longer scare me, Michael. I wish I could say it was good to see you but…”

“Do you really want to burn with them? The homosexuals? The fornicators? Adulterers, liars, and cheats? The lawyers and artists you and our brother love so dearly? Is it worth pleasure now, to suffer eternal pain once death finds you?”

“I’m not a member of your scared flock, Michael,” Castiel said, tired now and just wanting to go.

“Just remember it’s your fault. That boy’s parents suing you, you losing everything you’d built in your good name. Tarnished and beaten unrecognizable, and now look at you? What do you have to show for it? Not a job, not a savings account. A car, some boxes, and a job at some sinful discotheque. Even if you refuse to see the err of your ways, at least see how pathetic you’ve become. See that your life is worthless, and the world might be better without you in it. What do you have to offer, anyhow? You might think about repenting before you end it all, because I see you on that path, Castiel, and it leads nowhere good.”

By the end of his little speech, Castiel was defeated. He’d stood up to Michael, but never won. He’d spent years in therapy trying to learn how to keep those hateful, ugly words from hurting him, but he’d never been successful.

Michael knew he was the victor and left, muttering a short prayer before he made his way back to the church. And Castiel, hating himself, hating everything he’d ever done, was just short of giving up for good.

~*~

At about nine that night a storm rolled in, and Castiel found himself at the bar, despite it being his night off. Instead of working, however, he was drinking. Heavily. Gabe could tell it was a Michael issue, and didn’t press Cas for details. He didn’t have to, he’d been subjected to enough of Michael’s “big brother advice” over the years. He was just better at dealing with it than Cas had ever been. Despite being at least a foot shorter, Gabriel could always hold his own.

Castiel, for a good part of his life, had tried to be the obedient soldier. It wasn’t until he discovered something about himself he couldn’t change, something he’d been born into, he knew he was done for.

Cas drank until nearly eleven, and three sheets to the wind, he decided it was time to go. Gabriel tried to stop him, but when it became clear Cas would pick a fight rather than stay, Gabe just took away his car keys and let him walk in the freezing rain.

Seeing double and wholly confused, Cas wasn’t sure how he ended up on Dean’s doorstep. And when the Winchester answered, he looked mildly confused, but mostly concerned at Castiel’s current state of dampness.

“What happened?” Dean pressed as he let Cas inside.

The sudden change in temperature, along with how much he’d had to drink, made Castiel waver on his feet, and Dean caught him just before he toppled over. Cas manoevered in Dean’s arms so the man could see his lips. “I found some liquor. At the bar.”

“And?” Dean pressed.

“And I drank it.”

“You drank what? Beer? How many?” Dean urged.

Cas gave a wavering shrug. “So… so many.”

Dean threw his head back and laughed as he righted Cas and yanked him to the back bedroom. “Dry clothes and food, okay?”

Cas nodded, feeling a bit like a child as Dean plopped him in a chair and began to methodically strip him down. If he hadn’t been so drunk and so damn cold, it might have been erotic. As it was, Dean was simply changing him into something more appropriate, the way one would do with a sloppy toddler.

Safely and warmly ensconced in one of Dean’s paint-stained t-shirts and sweat pants, Cas padded behind Dean to the kitchen and sat down when Dean pointed firmly at a chair.

“You’re in luck,” Dean said as he fetched a plastic storage bin from the fridge. “My burgers reheat really well.”

Cas realized he hadn’t eaten at all that day, and thought maybe it would be a good idea. He knew he was bound to be mortified by the situation in the morning, but for now, he was okay with it.

“You know, you know what it’s like being gay, Dean?” Cas asked when Dean turned back to him.

Dean snorted. “Yeah. I do. Why?”

“Well do you know what it’s like being the son of Pastor Shurley and being gay?” When Dean’s face paled, Cas knew he’d met the man. “Yeah. Yeah that’s my good ole dad. Tried to beat salvation into me, you know? Mr great big pastor with the thick belt and switches from the tree out back. Flogging, like they did in the bible, he’d say before whipping me unconscious. Teachers at school thought maybe he was doing some good, too.” Cas shook his head and gave a wet hiccup, grimacing at the taste of old beer. “He thought he was so smart, too. Ordained through some mail-order church,” Castiel realized the accent he’d worked so hard at covering up was creeping through thanks to the alcohol, but he couldn’t care. “That son of a bitch didn’t know nothing. Did you know I can read Latin? And ancient Greek?”

Dean’s mouth quirked, amused. “I did not.”

“Well I can.” Castiel slapped his hand on the table, registering somewhere in the back of his mind the sound meant nothing to a Deaf man. “That stupid church put up some great big sign in Greek, claiming it had the original words in the bible on it.”

“I’ve seen it.”

Castiel leaned forward, conspiratorially, and crooked his finger at Dean who leaned in closer. “You wanna know what it says, Dean Winchester?”

Dean was trying to hold back a laugh as he nodded. “Yes, please.”

Cas sat back and crossed his arms. “It says you uh…” he blushed, realizing he didn’t want to be totally profane. “You breed… with the mouth of a goat. That’s what it says. It’s some old graffiti some archaeologist pulled out of some ruins somewhere. Bathroom graffiti and he’s toting it like it’s the goddamn scriptures.”

Dean surprised Cas by throwing his head back and howling with laughter. He slapped the counter and shook his head, wiping at his eye with his other hand. “That’s damn funny, Cas. Really damn funny.”

Cas nodded, looking a little smug and pleased with himself, and didn’t say anything until Dean put food down in front of him. The burger was dressed, and there was a small salad, dark greens covered in chopped olives, dried tomatoes, and some citrusy dressing.

Cas didn’t hesitate before digging in. And damn, it was delicious. Juicy despite being nuked, and the salad was nothing like he’d tasted before. “Sammy has to have his salads,” Dean said when Cas gestured to it with his fork.

Even in his drunken state, Cas realized it was probably rude to speak to someone who was reading your lips with food in his mouth, so he saved his praise til the end. And by the time he finished, the alcohol had made damn good work of his motor functions, and he was half asleep.

Dean didn’t say anything, but took the plate, and carefully helped Cas from the table. He stumbled a little, and found himself back in Dean’s bedroom, sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed. “Not sure if Sam is home tonight, but I’ll take the couch.”

Cas, who was nearly asleep as he sat there, grabbed on to Dean’s wrist. “You can… I mean. Look, I won’t try anything, okay? I’m too…” he laughed and fell back against the pillows. “I just don’t mind, is all.” 

And Cas didn’t register Dean’s quiet chuckle, or the acquiescing sigh as Dean grabbed some sleeping clothes from the wardrobe. He didn’t notice Dean leaving to change and brush his teeth, or his return. He didn’t hear the quiet tap tap as Dean put his hearing aids on the nightstand, or the click as he shut off the light.

What he did know, as he let sleep descend, is for the first time months, he didn’t wake up with a scream in his throat halfway through the night. For the first time in months, he just didn’t dream.

~*~

Cas woke to the sun shining directly on his face. It was uncomfortable to say the least, comparable with the discomfort of having sour, old beer taste coating the inside of his mouth. He let out a little huff and peered one eye open. It was way too damn bright, and he didn’t remember the shades being open. In fact, it took him a full minute to remember where the hell he was in the first place.

The feel of the bed, the smell on the pillow, the quiet shuffft shufffft of pencil drawing rapidly across heavy canvas paper, it was all unfamiliar. He opened his eye again and his visual field zoomed in on the shirtless, well muscled man curled up in a chair just under the window. He had his tongue sticking out to the side as he drew furiously along the paper.

Cas didn’t know what to say, or how to get his attention, so he just continued to lie there. But it felt rude. Dean couldn’t hear him to know he was up, and he was afraid if he sat up, he’d startle the artists. But it was getting a little creepy now.

Just as he decided to make a grand gesture to try and get Dean’s attention, the man drawing chuckled. “I know you’re up. Just lay there another minute, okay? Almost finished.”

Cas swallowed thickly, hating the taste in his mouth, but he complied. One minute, two, then five. Dean finally finished and stood up, wiping his blackened fingertips on the side of his sweatpants. 

“How are you feeling?”

Cas gave a small groan and put his hand to the side of his head. “I’ve been better.” The truth was, he was humiliated. He knew last night he would be, too, but his drunken mind had let himself ignore that fact. He still didn’t know why he showed up here of all places. To what? Impose on this ridiculously attractive man who likely had zero interest in Castiel?

Dean got up and left the room, and a few moments later, Cas heard the distinct sounds of coffee brewing. He hurried into the bathroom and though he didn’t vomit, he had a three minute long piss which stank like old bar garbage. He managed to scrounge up some mouthwash from the cabinet and felt a little more human after washing his mouth, face and hands. He stared at himself, his mussed hair, slightly large t-shirt which clearly wasn’t his, and let himself wonder for a moment how it would feel to wake up like this every morning. Well, except maybe not with a hang over.

He walked into the kitchen, suddenly very aware of his bare feet when they stepped down on the freezing tiles, and gave a sheepish smile to Dean who was pouring two cups of coffee.

“Thanks,” Cas said. Dean silently offered cream and sugar which he declined. “What’s the sign for coffee?”

Dean showed him, right fist over left fist, the right moving in a circular motion. It kind of reminded Cas of a coffee grinder, maybe? Vaguely. 

“Would you like some breakfast?” Dean signed when he spoke, and Cas blushed a little, which made Dean laugh. “Eggs and toast?” He made the signs slower, and though a little self-conscious, Castiel copied them.

“How do you sign yes please?”

Dean showed him, and Castiel mimicked, finding yes, nodding his closed fist, and please, a flat hand rubbing his chest, much easier to remember than the food.

Dean gestured for Cas to sit while he busied himself at the stove. Cas consumed the coffee, and grabbed a refill, feeling a little more human by the minute. Dean took his time with the breakfast, throwing in some bacon and served each plate with some salted, sliced tomatoes.

Neither man said a word as they dug in. Castiel was now awake, full, and a little less horrified about his behavior the night before.

“I should explain,” Cas said after Dean returned from putting the dishes in the sink. “About last night.”

Dean waved his hand. “It’s fine. Really.”

Cas shook his head. “I’m not normally such a basket case. I just… it’s been a rough few months, and my brother yesterday uh…”

“Say no more,” Dean said, and put his hand on top of Castiel’s. “I understand fucked up family. And also, you don’t need an excuse to drop by. You’re cool in my book, Cas.”

They didn’t say much, and after a few Cas realized he didn’t want to wear out his welcome. Dean was obviously a busy person, and Cas actually had to work that night. If he had any hopes of getting anything written, now was the time.

Dean walked him to the door, insisting Cas keep the clothes since his were still soaked. When he stepped onto the porch, he saw his car parked in the driveway, which meant Gabe had known all along where Cas was going to end up. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain himself, but really, did he have to?

The keys were in the planter near the edge of the porch, and Dean fetched them. “Can I see you again?”

“Well I work tonight if you want to come in,” Cas offered.

Dean shook his head. “Benny’s in town. I don’t go there when he’s there.”

Cas didn’t ask, but shrugged. “Okay well…”

“I meant for a date. I’ll cook for you.”

Cas felt something warm blossom in his gut, and he resist the urge to shout yes! He liked Dean, a lot, but after Uriel…

Cas took a breath and forced himself to remember this was not Harvard, Dean was not Uriel, and it was okay to date. It really was. “Yeah. Yeah I think that would be good.”

Dean let out a breath of relief and grinned. “Good. I’ll be in touch.”

This time Dean didn’t wait out on the porch as Cas got in his car and started off down the street. But it was okay. It was okay because there were future plans. There was a future. Something bright and possibly great, and even if it ended painfully, nothing could be as life destroying as his past. So it was worth the risk.

That afternoon Cas wrote more than he had in years, and it felt so damn good. He felt like things were finally going to be okay. No hellfire. No brimstone. No fates of the sinners. Just… okay.

~*~

Gabe was quiet with Cas that night, but he took no notice. He worked with a new bounce in his step, and he felt refreshed. The night was hopping, the people were ecstatic and friendly, and even Benny seemed to get in on the energy.

It wasn’t until Sam arrived that the mood shifted. He looked angry and drawn as he approached the bar. “Can I talk to you in Gabe’s office?” he shouted over the music.

Charlie, the part time bartender with the fantastic red hair, motioned Cas off and took over. He followed the tall moose into the office and winced when Sam slammed the door.

“I don’t mean to sound like an ass, or like a stereotype, but what do you think you’re doing with my brother?” Sam’s arms were crossed and it was in that moment Castiel realized how dangerous Sam probably was.

“Aside from him helping me out last night,” Cas said, a little annoyed, “relatively little has happened between us.”

“But you have a date.”

“Is that illegal?” Castiel countered with a huff. “Are you his warden?”

“I should be,” Sam shouted, and then took a breath. “Look man, I know my brother, and he gets all wrapped up in stupid situations. And I know what happened to you, and I’m not sure it’s such a good idea that someone with his shit in a blender right now should be dating him.”

Castiel felt a little taken aback. Yes, his past was messed up, but for Sam to assume something like that… “Look, I might not have done things right, but I was wrongly fired. The parents who sued me for dating their son refused to take into account their son and I were in a long term relationship. He wasn’t even my student, but because he was in seminary and because they had money, they took me to the cleaners. So while that might mean my shit went into a blender, as you say, it doesn’t mean I’m a bad guy.”

“I just don’t think I can watch him get hurt again.”

“I don’t think you should assume I will hurt him.”

Sam smiled sadly. “He really likes you.”

“So you said,” Cas replied, and refused to show how much that made him want to sprout wings and fly right out of the room. “Are you going to try and pressure me into canceling the date?”

Sam rubbed his hand down around his mouth and let out a breath. “He and Benny dated for a while. And yeah, Benny’s an okay guy, but he isn’t great. He fucked my brother over, stole from him, cheated on him, got all hopped up on shit and tried to drag Dean down with him. Dean’s had it rough. We were in foster care and I didn’t even know how bad he had it until years down the road. Being a kid in foster care is hell, being a Deaf kid in foster care is purgatory. Just littered with monsters around every turn, waiting to devour you. He just got over this whole Benny thing and I can’t stand to see him go down that road again.”

“I get it. I do. I have siblings. I’m not entirely thrilled with the sort of relationship you have with Gabriel. It seems toxic. But you’re both grown men, as is Dean. I’m also not an addict, and being fired isn’t going to send me into a self-destructive spiral. So if you don’t mind, maybe keep to your own business.”

With that, Cas tried to push Sam out of the way. The moose got uppity and tried to grab Cas, but his instincts kicked in and Cas grabbed Sam, whipping him around and pinning him, an elbow across his throat. “I got hit a lot as a kid. I don’t like to be bullied. So if you don’t mind, you’ll keep the violent threats to a minimum. Thanks.”

Sam threw up his hands, surprised, and backed off.

Cas left the room, forcing himself not to have second thoughts. He’d have this date, damn it. Because he deserved it. And it sounded like Dean did, too. Whatever lay down the road, it wouldn’t be the same for either of them, and that’s what kept Cas afloat.


	2. Chapter 2

“Cassie Cassie Cassie.”

Standing with his back to the bar, the English drawl made his skin break out into goose bumps. He hadn’t heard the voice in what, fifteen years? Maybe longer? And he realized as he stood there, hands paralyzed to the top of the liquor counter, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to turn around. His fingers curled in on themselves, the cold marble soaking into his knuckles.

“It’s been a long time.”

Sucking in a breath, Castiel finally turned and looked his half-brother in the eye. Balthazar. The boy born overseas, the exotic sibling who spent most of his life living on a boat with his mother in the Mediterranean. Castiel was nine when he found out about Balthazar. He was the illegitimate child of his father during a missionary visit to Greece. He met and fell in lust with a woman. Tempted by the devil, he said. He stuck around long enough to grace the child with one of his Angel names and then went back to his corn-fed, Bible thumping mission.

Balthazar showed up one day, a rebellious, free-living teenager and shook up the Shurley household. He took one look at his back-woods, bigoted siblings and made it his mission to shake things up. And he’d done it. He’d done a damn good job. Suddenly seminary and preaching and judging and hellfire weren’t the only options for Castiel. Weren’t the only options for any of the siblings.

Of course a war broke out after that, and Balthazar was banished from speaking to his siblings ever again, but it didn’t stop him. He snuck in every year or so, bringing stories of his life on a boat, stories of women and men and beaches and all the otherworldy sins Castiel had only ever dreamt about. Had only ever read about in the books he was able to sneak home to devour, hidden from the watchful eye of his father.

One of the worst beatings Castiel had ever received, one that left him immobile for four days, confined to his bed, was when the Good Father found Castiel’s letters he’d been exchanging with his sibling. There was a point during that beating in which Castiel wasn’t sure he was going to retain the use of his left arm. It took a few months, but it eventually came back. Castiel never forgot it though, and the very mention of his brother after that caused him to fly into a panic.

“What are you doing here?” Castiel grabbed a wet cloth and began to polish the already sparkling counter top. He tried his best to meet his brother’s eyes, but couldn’t.

“Gabriel said you were in town, thought I’d pop round and say hi.” Balthazar leaned across the counter and put a sea-weathered hand on top of Castiel’s trembling one, forcing his brother to look up at him. “He can’t hurt you this time. You know that, right?”

Castiel’s throat went tight and he cleared it, giving a sharp nod as he pulled away from his older brother. It hadn’t been Balthazar’s fault. None of it. The kid was responsible for saving Castiel from a life of… well Cas didn’t want to think about what his life would have become if he’d followed in Michael’s footsteps. But the fear would always remain. The fear of those consequences. Even from beyond the grave.

There was a pregnant pause before Balthazar took a step back away from the counter, shoving his hands into his pockets. He looked defeated, though his eyes still burned with determination. “Gabe invited me for dinner tomorrow. I… I hope you’ll be there.”

Jaw tight, Cas gave a nod, but he was a thousand percent sure he’d find something else to do. Somewhere else to be. He wanted a relationship with his brother, he wanted to thank him for freeing him, but something in his brain prevented him from letting go of those memories, that fear. He was fucked up, there was no other term for it.

Before he could look up again, Balthazar was gone and Castiel was alone. Gabriel seemed to notice the mood shift, but he didn’t call his brother out on it. Besides, Sam was in the bar tonight and that kept Gabriel pretty damn occupied. Cas worked the drinks, hoping Dean would come in, but with Benny there the artist was absent and Castiel felt the void growing in his gut get a little wider.

Maybe some day he’d heal. But it was really obvious that today was not that day.

~*~

“You’re going to show up, right?” Gabriel was in the kitchen putting a huge pot of boiling water on the stove. He was making some sort of pasta dish with clams and some creamy sauce. A massive plate of fresh-shredded parm was warming to room temp, and there was a colander in the sink full of shucked shellfish. The smell was extremely pleasant, especially when Gabe began to chop the fresh herbs, but Castiel’s stomach was churning.

He was trying to force himself to be okay with all of it, with Balthazar and reconciling the abuse from his childhood, but he was failing. “I’m not sure I’m hungry.”

Gabe tossed the knife on the counter and turned to confront his brother. “You have to deal with this, Castiel. You cannot let that dead, rotting son of a bitch continue to police your relationships. Yeah, Michael’s done a damn good job at filling daddy’s old shoes, but he can’t hurt you.”

Castiel nodded, letting out a sigh, but he flopped his arms, unable to explain why he felt like this. “I’m just… I just need a walk.”

Turning go, he heard Gabriel calling after him as he ripped open the front door. “Don’t you bitch out on me, Castiel. I swear to god, if you leave our brother hanging tonight you’ll find all your shit out on the porch. Do you hear me?”

He heard him. Oh he heard him, but it didn’t stop his feet from hitting the pavement, clicking hard as he walked and walked. And his feet knew where he was going better than his brain, because twenty minutes later he was standing on the Winchester’s porch wondering how he was going to explain himself this time.

Of course, he didn’t have to. Just as he took one step up, the door opened and Sam stepped out. He was dressed casually, but freshly showered, and he looked Castiel up and down. “He’s around the back working on the deck.”

Cas felt his voice lock up again, and he cleared it. “Thanks.” Sam started to walk past him, but as his feet hit the gravel, Castiel called out. “Uh, sorry. About Gabe’s office. About grabbing you.”

Sam paused by the bottom step, stared at Cas for a long minute, then sighed. “It’s cool man. I get it. We’re all a little fucked in the head and I gotta respect your backbone. Just… just don’t hurt my brother.”

He didn’t wait for Cas to respond, instead jumping in his car and pulling away. Cas was grateful for that, only because that was a promise he couldn’t make. Not because he wanted to hurt Dean, but because he knew all too well how fucked up life could be. He never expected things to go the way they had with Uriel, either. And now he was shattered and broken, and unsure he’d be able to ever pick up the pieces. Not completely, anyway.

Either way, he was here now, and he figured he’d better say hi instead of looking like a total creeper. Going around the side of the house, Castiel let himself in through a side gate and let out a whistle of surprise. Their back garden was amazing. It was lush and green, full of fruit trees, grass, and small flowerbeds. There was a gazebo in the back, with an area set up where Dean obviously did some work. And to his right, right off the back door, was Dean. He was standing in the middle of a skeleton frame, no shirt, torn jeans, sweat pouring off his forehead. He was kneeling down, using a tool to measure the level of the wood, and he looked up right when Castiel came into view.

Not sure how Dean was going to react, Cas found himself pleasantly surprised when Dean’s face broke out into a huge smile. Cas had been a little worried, showing up before Dean made the date official. It could come across as super creepy.

Shoving his hands down to his sides, Castiel gave a shrug like, ‘here I am, is this okay?’ Dean beckoned him over with a head-nod, and Castiel crossed over the grass, stepping onto the dry but obviously new concrete porch.

“Sorry for just dropping by,” Cas said.

Dean held up a finger, fished into his pockets, then pulled out his hearing aids. He shoved them into his ears, adjusted them, then smiled up at Cas. “It’s easier to work without them. The hammering gets really loud.”

Cas smiled, wondering what it would be like to just turn off the world’s sounds. He thought it might actually be kind of nice. “So, building a deck?”

Dean shrugged. “Can’t do much about the shithole neighborhood, but I can make my corner a little slice of heaven.”

Cas tried not to wince at the heaven reference, instead choosing to smile. “It looks amazing. I wish I had a fraction of your talent.”

Dean snorted, then held up a finger as he strolled over to the cooler, grabbing two cold beers. He cracked the tops, then handed one over to Cas who took it with a thank you sign he’d learned from the night before. Dean grinned, giving Cas a wink.

“So, I’m going to assume from the look on your face, you’re not here for social reasons.”

Cas’ face fell and he was embarrassed at just how damn easy he was to read. And why had he come to Dean? This man who yeah, expressed his interest in Castiel, but all Cas had ever done is show up drunk and act like a needy piece of shit. He suddenly felt disgusting, everything his brother ever accused him of being.

Before he could respond or react, Dean’s arms suddenly came around him, tight around his waist and pulled him close. It was a full thirty seconds before Cas realized Dean was giving him a hug. A simple, gentle hug. And Cas felt even worse because it had been so long since someone offered such a simple gesture of affection.

He wanted to shove Dean away. To tell Dean, tell himself he was stronger than this, he didn’t need this. But he couldn’t. His body refused to obey that selfish, desire of the ego, and instead he let his head fall on Dean’s shoulder and he squeezed back until he felt his shoulders go a little lighter.

And sure, when he pulled away his face was red and hot and he was flooded with embarrassment, but he also felt a little bit freer. He let Dean take his hand and pull him over to the gazebo. There was a long, paint-stained table under, and two uncomfortable metal chairs set up. Dean shoved Cas down into one, then took the other, crossing his ankle over his knee and leaning back, his half-empty beer pinched between two fingers.

He looked at Cas for a long time, then tapped his mouth with a finger, drawing it down to his chest and tapped it there.

Cas didn’t need that interpreted. At least, he didn’t think so. His mouth opened and suddenly things came pouring out. Word-vomit, secret things hidden away in his brain he never said aloud. To anyone. The fears and memories and torture he suffered at the hands of his father, all because of his brother who was now at his house waiting for him.

“I think he expects thanks. Because it was his influence that sent me off to college, to pursue my own hopes and dreams and life outside of my psychotic father.” Cas ran his hands over his face and sighed. “But I keep thinking, yeah, I found myself, but at what cost? Having the sin beat out of me? Repeatedly? Until I couldn’t walk? Losing my job, my reputation, my house? Where’s the bright side in all of this? I followed my dreams and it led me fucking where?”

Dean, who was leaning forward now over his bent knees, was watching Castiel’s mouth intently. “Here?” he offered, waving his hand around the yard. “To me?”

Castiel couldn’t help his better laugh, sitting back and shaking his head. “You don’t even know me, Dean. I mean seriously, look at me. Your brother put it pretty appropriately. My shit life is currently in the blender, and it’s on puree.”

Dean froze, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on Castiel’s mouth. “Wait. Say that again.” With a frown, Castiel did. Heaving a breath, Dean sat back. “My brother?” He made the sign to go along with it, and Castiel nodded. “When?”

“The night after I woke up here. It’s not a big deal it…”

“It is. It is a big deal,” Dean said, holding up a hand to stop Castiel’s flow of words. “It’s a big damn deal. I love my brother but he needs to stop this. Like now.”

“Well if you’re worried about him scaring me off, obviously it didn’t work,” Cas said, shrugging. “I mean, I’m here.”

Jaw clenched, Dean leaned forward again and took Castiel’s hands in his. “You want me to go to this dinner with you? Sometimes we all need a fucking hand to hold, Cas. You know? A hand to hold and maybe a hug and you’re not weak and I don’t think your life is in a fucking blender because people are assholes.”

Castiel wanted to argue, to say that maybe it was his choices and it was listening to the wrong people that led him here. But it was hard to demonize it because Dean was holding his hands now and he really fucking liked this guy. He seemed to get him on a level no one ever had, and he didn’t need to know every detail about this guy to know that Dean was someone he wanted to keep around.

So he didn’t protest when Dean got up and went into the house to change. He hadn’t showered, but he’d washed up and threw on a little bit of cologne. He was still wearing jeans, but nicer ones, and he had a shirt with a faded Van Halen logo printed across the chest. He beckoned Castiel over, then locked up the back door and led the way through the back gate.

“You wanna take my car?” Dean nodded to the cherry black Impala parked under the awning, covered by a tan tarp.

Castiel hesitated, not sure he wanted to drag Dean into this mess. The artist seemed pretty damn determined though, and Cas wondered if maybe he didn’t have his own agenda. Though if he didn’t who was Cas to deny him that. “Do you mind if we walk? I can give you a ride later if you want.”

“Sounds great.” Dean offered out his hand, and Cas took it. It felt weird, a happy weird but weird nonetheless as they strolled down the street. Being in some hick-ass, bible-thumping town as two gay men strolling along hand-in-hand without a care in the world was like spitting in the face of his father, and Cas was okay with that. The old son of a bitch deserved it anyway.

A few cars passed, some dirty looks and a couple of insults called out. Dean didn’t hear the cruel words, which Cas thought was a blessing, and he seemed to happily ignore the other people. When Dean caught his look, he brushed him off. “Man, fuck those guys. Their opinion on your life doesn’t matter. They don’t deserve the energy it takes to get offended.”

Cas nodded, not quite able to shut himself off the way Dean could, but he did hold on to the man’s hand a little tighter, and a little more comfortably. They got to Gabe’s place not long after, and Dean let himself in like he’d been doing it for years.

Sam, Gabriel, and Balthazar were already seated at the table. Gabe looked a little surprised to see Dean there, and though Sam looked thoroughly put out, Balthazar was beaming. He rose, beckoning Cas and Dean over, and nodded to Gabe to grab two more plates.

As they stepped into the kitchen, Dean disengaged himself from Castiel and approached Sam, who was deliberately not looking at his brother. Dean stood there a minute, then reached out and gave Sam a sharp tap on the shoulder. He made a series of signs, angry ones, that Cas couldn’t even begin to decipher. Sam looked annoyed and responded, then Dean stomped his foot and pointed to the back door.

With a groan, Sam got up and led the way. The door slammed shut, and Castiel couldn’t help himself. Peering out the window, he watched them engage in the angry signs. Dean’s foot would stomp, hands slapping, smacking his chest, his chin, his mouth twisted into a grimace. He let out a couple of grunts and back-of-the-throat groans, his lips forming occasional words.

Sam did the same. It continued on for a while, so Cas turned, looking at both his brothers as he took a seat. “I didn’t mean to bring the drama.”

“You didn’t,” Gabe said, waving his fork at Cas. “This happens a lot.” He looked over at Balthazar and shrugged. “I’ll introduce you properly in a few. They’ll be calm when they come inside. Dean-o’s just angry because Sam gave Cassie here the third degree about his dishonorable intentions with his older brother.”

Castiel’s face went bright red. “I forgot you know what they’re saying.”

“You’ll be fluent soon enough. Either way, Dean’s right to be pissed. Sam can get his head stuck up his ass sometimes and it’s not cool.”

Balthazar chuckled, his eyes fixed on Castiel. “I was hoping you and I might have a chat as well, maybe have lunch while I’m still in town?”

Castiel gulped, eventually nodding his head. “I suppose I can find the time.” He wanted to talk to his brother. Well… he wanted to want to, but it was a struggle. But he owed him at least that much. Just a chat, anyway.

The silence was tense and seemed to stretch on to eternity until the Winchesters arrived and Gabriel could provide proper introductions. They seemed calmer, still tense, and Sam looked sheepish while Dean looked pleased with himself, and dinner was served.

It was a combination of speaking and signing, Sam slipping into a terp role with ease whenever it was obvious Dean wasn’t getting it. Castiel was picking up signs here and there, and mostly he just felt comforted because half the time, Dean had his hand on Castiel’s knee.

After dinner came dessert with some brandy in coffee cups because it’s all Gabriel had to offer. But it was comfortable enough, in spite of the stress Castiel felt, especially when Balthazar told stories about his adventures overseas. Those were the stories which drove Castiel to want to escape, the stories which gave him a taste of freedom, that freedom sending his world crashing down and ripping him right back down into this purgatory.

Dean seemed to sense Castiel’s distress, and halfway through he beckoned Cas outside to the yard. They stood on the tiny, rickety deck looking over the dead leaved, dirt yard. Cas had his hand on the splintered banister, his eyes looking out into the darkness beyond the yard when Dean’s arms came around him.

The artist rested his chin on Castiel’s shoulder and nudged the side of his face with his nose. “Come back home with me. Stay the night.”

Knowing he’d have to face Dean to reply, he turned, his eyes wide. “Dean I…” But his words were broken by Dean’s mouth falling on his, pressing lips to lips in a dry, warm, welcome kiss. Cas found his hands creeping up the center of Dean’s shirt, gripping the logo and crushing it in his hands while Dean pressed Castiel back against the railing. It gave a disturbingly loud crack which Dean didn’t notice until Cas flinched.

“I think the porch is going to fall apart on us.”

Dean smiled a little and kissed the center of Castiel’s forehead. “I’ll bring my tools over next time I have a dead week and we’ll get some work done around here.”

Cas nodded, but when Dean tried to pull him along, he hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. God, the idea of spending the night with Dean was more than he could hope for, but he worried. He worried and he wondered, why did this damn Adonis of a man want him? A washed up, awkward, socially inept, professor-turned-bartender. Castiel looked at himself and knew Dean was out of his league. His shaggy black hair, watery blue eyes, persistent five o’clock shadow.

Dean felt the hesitation and let go of Castiel’s arm, cocking his head as he looked at the other man. “Cas…” He hesitated a moment. “Look, if you’re not interested in me, it’s okay. You just have to say so.”

Castiel’s eyes flared wide and he took a step toward Dean. “No I… no. That’s not it. God that’s not it. I’m so interested. I just…” He flapped his arms down to his sides and let out a puff of air. “I’m a mess, Dean. Your brother wasn’t half wrong about me, you know. My life is a mess, I don’t know what the fuck I want. Hell, I can’t even look my brother in the face without having an anxiety attack at the memories of what my father did to me as a boy. You’re better than I am. You’re who you are and I’m not there yet. I don’t want to be a…” He stopped talking though. The look on Dean’s face said the Deaf man was only getting a little bit of what Castiel was spouting out there in that darkened porch and he sighed. Closing his fist, he rubbed it in a circle over his heart.

Reaching out, Dean closed his fingers around Castiel’s wrist and pulled him close. “I understood enough. And I get it. And I’m sorry you feel like shit. But I like you, Cas, and I don’t like people very easy so if you wanna come home with me, come home with me. Stop worrying so much.”

Normally Castiel wouldn’t be moved like that. Normally he’d continue down his own spiral into the void of nothingness that had been threatening to swallow him from the moment he left his office with his box of supplies, and turned over the keys to his home. For the first time since then, he felt a sense of peace as Dean’s fingers closed around his and tugged him to the front of the house where his car was parked.

*** 

In the kitchen, Dean offered Castiel a beer, which he took but set on the table and didn’t touch it again. The silence between them was sort of tense, not quite awkward but not yet having reached that state of comfortable or familiar. It didn’t seem to bother Dean, and Castiel figured he was used to it. Not just because of the Deaf thing, either, but because he was an outsider in this town like he was, only he never bothered to escape it.

Dean finished half his drink before crossing the distance between them. He approached slowly, giving Castiel time to back away, but he felt rooted to the spot as Dean drew closer and closer. Inches apart now, Dean raised his hands and made a series of signs.

“I um…” Castiel’s voice cracked as he looked into Dean’s eyes.

“You’ll get it.” Dean smiled, then put one hand on Castiel’s cheek. “I’m going to kiss you.” It was phrased like a statement, but Dean looked at him with an expression on his face, wondering, asking for permission. Castiel bobbed his head down and up only once before Dean’s mouth captured his.

Then it was all hands and teeth and tongue after that. Dean backed Castiel up against the fridge, holding him tight by the front of his shirt while Castiel tried desperately to find something to do with his fingers. Eventually he settled on wrapping them around Dean’s large, taut forearms and just held on for dear life as Dean ground his rock-hard cock against the front of Castiel’s jeans. The friction was making Cas’ head spin, and he forced the kiss to end so he could take a moment to catch his breath.

Dean caught Castiel’s gaze and whispered, “Too much?”

Castiel licked his lips and found he missed the intense pressure of Dean’s mouth on his. “No I… can we…” His eyes darted to the side, toward the hall where the bedroom was waiting, and Dean smirked.

Instead of letting him go, Dean began to back Castiel up, almost holding him up on his feet as they stumbled back through the hall. Dean alternated paying attention to where they were going, and kissing Castiel which led to a few harsh bumps along the wall, once into the corner of the door which made Cas cry out a little, but Dean kissed the pain away.

Eventually they landed in the bedroom, the smell familiar from the other night Cas crashed on Dean’s bed. It was lit by a dim, yellow lamp in the corner, and the bed was unmade. A paint-covered t-shirt was discarded on the corner, and Dean brushed it off with nimble fingers as his other hand began to tug on the hem of Castiel’s shirt.

“Off,” he ordered, his voice even thicker, even deeper in the back of his throat. His tone was heady with desire, and Castiel felt it go straight to his groin.

“I…” Castiel cleared his throat as he raised his arms, allowing Dean to lift the shirt above his head. It slid over his arms, but when it got to his wrists, Dean stopped, wrapping it tight up so Cas’ palms pressed together, and Dean twisted the opening, binding the other man.

Castiel felt his dick give a hard, vicious throb against the button of his jeans as Dean used the makeshift bindings to pull Castiel hard against the wall. Dean pinned his hands there, looking ravenous up and down Castiel’s bare chest, and he licked his lips.

“If it’s too much…” Dean’s eyes were heavy-lidded, but he was aware.

Shaking his head, Castiel bucked his hips against the thigh Dean was sliding between Cas’ legs. “No. Please god. More.”

Dean pressed Cas’ hands harder against the wall as he dipped his head to kiss him again. He broke it, sliding his tongue along Cas’ jaw, down his throat where he paused to bite down. Hard enough to hurt, but he didn’t hold the bite long enough to leave a lasting mark, instead ghosting down to his nipples which were erect and begging for attention. Dean clamped his mouth over one, pressing his tongue down hard over the nub, massaging it before letting his teeth worry the tip.

Castiel’s head spun. He’d never been given this kind of attention before. Even with his former lovers, even with Uriel who’d been his most wild experience, Castiel had never been spoiled like this. His head flopped back against the wall as Dean dropped lower, taking Castiel’s arm with him. His mouth and tongue drew lines down his stomach, and with one hand expertly popped the button and zip on Castiel’s jeans. His prick strained against the crooked flap of his boxers, and Dean used his mouth to free the weeping cock. The cool air suddenly made Cas suck in air hard through his teeth, and he let out an almost-pained cry as Dean’s mouth closed over the tip. His tongue pressed hard against his slit, lapping up the dripping precum with relish.

When Castiel looked down at Dean, he saw the eyes smoldering with desire, and his lips were kiss-swollen. “Bed?” Castiel could barely form the word, but Dean understood and nodded.

He let Cas’ arms go, which flopped down to his sides, feeling a little numb and heavy. But he wasn’t given much reprieve as Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him back onto the soft mattress. With a fluid motion, Dean grabbed the cuffs of his jeans and the clothing seemed to just melt off, discarded without care in the corner of the room.

Cas wasn’t sure how Dean had suddenly become naked, save for boxers which barely contained his own straining erection, but however it happened, Castiel was grateful for it. Dean’s skin was hot and sweaty and his hands were needy as they roamed all over Cas’ body.

His desire was ramping up, as was his confidence, and suddenly the unsure, traumatized man was fading into the background of the person he’d once been. The person who was sure of himself and knew what he wanted, and felt an overwhelming determination to get it.

So he took the lead. Flipping Dean over now, he reached down with one hand and with painfully slow movements, slid Dean’s cock through the slit in the boxers. Dean hissed, his hands clenching around the bed sheets as Castiel’s fingers closed around his aching dick. Cas pumped it a few times fast, a hard grip, letting his thumb swipe through the fluid now dripping out, and he stuck the digit in his mouth, moaning at the taste.

It had been too long. Too fucking long, and as Castiel stared down at Dean’s red face, mouth slightly parted and panting, he knew this was what he wanted. He wanted this man and he was going to make sure Dean knew just how badly he was desired.

Sliding down, his hands on Dean’s chest, Castiel used his knee to part Dean’s legs and then situated himself between Dean’s knees. He pinched at Dean’s nipples hard, making the man’s hips buck and licking his lips, he suddenly descended on the prick, taking it down in one gulp. Dean let out a deep, guttural cry as his prick rammed against the back of Cas’ throat, and when it contracted with a gag, Dean bucked his hips again.

“Jesus fuck.” Dean’s fingers were twisting into signs matching the moaning gasps and Castiel wasted no time in using the tricks he’d learned to make the other man scream. And scream he did. Fucking loud. Cas could feel Dean’s balls starting to contract, trembling as orgasm approached, but he wasn’t done yet. He let the prick go with a loud pop, and ignoring Dean’s moan of protest, he climbed back up the body to kiss Dean’s pouting mouth.

“Lube,” Cas said, when Dean’s eyes fluttered open.

Dean frowned in confusion, the desire impeding his ability to understand the movements of Cas’ swollen lips. With a sigh, Cas raised his hand and used his crappy fingerspelling to form the word. Dean smirked and nodded to the bedside table. In the first drawer were condoms and lube, and Castiel grabbed them both.

Tossing the condoms to the side, Cas lubed up his hand and slicked it down toward Dean’s opening. Using his other hand to shove Dean’s leg up into a crooked position, his fingers toyed at the hole, swiping around and around and around until Dean was panting and begging and pushing himself back on Cas’ fingers. Slipping in one, Castiel prodded gently, the hole tight and hot, and he felt his neglected prick begging to be let in. A second finger joined the first and slowly began to spread, opening him just a little. He added a little more lube and pushed in further, using his other hand to guide Dean’s hips up just a little more until…

“Oh god.” The words came tumbling out of Dean’s mouth in a rush as Cas found that spot right there and began to finger-fuck it hard enough to make Dean lose his breath. “In me. Fuck. Now.” Dean’s words were clumsy and hot and begging, and Castiel didn’t need more goading than that.

With practiced ease he ripped open the condom wrapper, slid it on his begging, aching dick, then coated it with even more lube. He positioned himself right at Dean’s hole, pressing just the tip inside at first, but Dean was having none of that.

He shifted, angling his hips up and then impaled himself on Castiel’s dick in one fluid motion. Cas hissed, his fingers digging into Dean’s calves and he let himself sit there, stretching the hole, pulsing and craving more friction.

Dean lifted his head just for a second, meeting Castiel’s eyes. “Fuck me. Now. Fuck me like you mean it, Cas.”

And that was all he needed. He began to pound him, hard and furious, unleashing a torrent of want and desire, anger and frustration, loneliness and craving and everything else he had pent up. He stared down at Dean’s face the entire time, watching Dean’s curved mouth, his breath coming in gasps and sweat beading off his forehead.

Cas was about to come, hard. He could feel it rising and boiling over, and just before he did, Dean sat up and pressed his hand against Castiel’s throat. “I want to hear you scream my name,” and he clenched his muscles around Castiel’s dick hard as the other man was pumping fast and desperate.

“Fuck Dean fuck oh god fuck.” The words came out, not a scream, but a muffled jumble of letters and sounds, but Dean’s fingers flexed against the vibrations and Cas realized it didn’t matter how loud he was, only that he’d given Dean what he wanted.

Using his free, tired hand, Castiel began to pump Dean with the pulsing rhythm of his own cock and moments after he spilled, a jet of white spurt out from the tip of Dean’s, landing just below his prick on the soft, curled hair there.

Suddenly the world stopped spinning. Suddenly the breeze from the cracked window was cold, and suddenly, Castiel was filled with doubt. Dean didn’t allow it to last long. As Cas fell off to the side, the blankets came around his body and Dean’s hand found his. Suddenly there was a face against his, peppering kisses all along his jawline and whispering unintelligible words in his ear.

It wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t cured. He wasn’t better. But he was wanted and he was comforted and for the moment, that was enough.

~*~

Castiel winced when the soft puff of smoke drifted his way. Balthazar waved his hand in a futile effort to shift the direction of the wind, then took another long drag on his cigarette. “I didn’t think you were going to show up.”

Castiel gripped the sides of his menu, staring down at the words so hard everything began to blur. PTSD is what a psychiatrist would have called it, but he never had the balls to actually go to one. “Dean said it would be good for me.” It was the first time Castiel doubted the Winchester, but he didn’t have the heart to turn down the request. Castiel knew Dean had an unrealistic view on what siblings should mean to each other, and simply for the sake of Dean’s peace of mind, Castiel was sitting at the table now.

“Castiel.” Balthazar sounded hurt, and Cas looked up at his half-brother. “I came to apologize.”

Well that was new. Castiel had been expecting a lot of things. For Balthazar to tell him to tell his other siblings and retired father to go fuck themselves. For Castiel to stand up and strip down and declare, ‘fuck the world’ or… something. He was definitely not expecting an apology.

“For what?”

Balthazar sighed, taking the final drag of his smoke, and he crushed it out on the leg of the iron table. “When I came here looking for Chuck, I didn’t know what I was going to expect. Mum had all these… stories about him. How he was this wound tight bloke who just desperately needed someone to show him something other than his own views on the world. He was a different man with her, I guess. So she said. He let go of things, felt free. After he left, she wrote to him a few times and she… worried. I thought I could fix things.” Balthazar sighed, pulling his hand back through his hair. “I took a look at you lot, you adorable, pink-faced little hillbillies and I thought I was helping, you know? I didn’t realize…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “The little one, Samandriel? He told me what happened.”

Castiel swallowed against a lump in his throat and took a breath. He was determined to see this conversation out. How the hell else was he supposed to heal. Because didn’t he want to reconcile his relationship with this brother? Balthazar was not the demon in his past. His father was. “Unfortunately I was used as an example for the younger ones. The rebel, the one with too much spirit.” Cas shook his head and gulped down a huge mouthful of his sweet tea. The server came by and they ordered a couple of burgers and fries. “Samandriel left, too. He was smarter about it than I was. Kept everything secret. One day he was just… gone. He emailed a few times but we’ve lost touch.”

“Have you seen him since you’ve been back?”

Castiel barked out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Ah no. I’m afraid if I see him again I’m not sure what I’d do.”

 

“And Michael?”

Castiel shrugged. “Hardly blame him. It wasn’t his fault. He was dad’s brave little soldier, you know? Obedient, like dad wanted us all to be. You were the lucky one, Balthazar.”

“Was I?”

Castiel took a long look at his brother and for the first time in years, gave him a true, genuine smile. “Yeah. You were.”

~*~

Cas was lounging on Dean’s couch with his laptop tilted up toward him, typing away. Sam had flown to New York for the month with a couple of his partners in his firm, and Gabe all-but fired Castiel telling him he needed to find something other than tending bar to occupy his time. All Cas wanted to do was write, and Dean insisted his home had more creative energy than most. Three weeks later and Castiel had made massive progress on his book, and was feeling right at home.

It was nearly four when Dean walked through the door, and Castiel looked up, his breath catching in his throat when he saw Dean sporting a massive shiner, complete with a nasty cut over his eyebrow. Cas sat up, but Dean waved him off and went into the kitchen to grab the first aid kit.

Rushing into the kitchen, Cas tapped Dean’s arm to get his attention. He tapped his Y hand on his chin. ‘What’s wrong.’ “Who did that?” he asked aloud when Dean’s eyes fixed on his lips. Cas hooked a finger around his ear, asking where Dean’s aids were.

“Gone,” he ground out, slamming the kit on the table. He ripped out a butterfly bandage and slapped it over the cut with practiced ease. “Some asshole sucker punched me.” He stormed to the fridge and ripped out a beer. Turning back to Cas his gaze softened a little. “I had my aids off, you know because we were working with the saws today. Asshole caught me from behind. Took a punch to the back, one to the back of my head, and a foot to the face.”

Cas let out a breath and used his developing sign to ask, ‘Did you know who it was?’

Dean pursed his lips and after the silence, when he shook his head, Castiel knew Dean was lying. He took a step forward and put his hand on Dean’s arm, forcing the Winchester to look at him. After a second, Dean let out a puff of air. “It was your idiot brother, okay? And that other asshole from the church, Zachariah. That fat old son of a bitch.”

Cas felt his jaw clench and he backed up a step. “Why? Why would Michael…”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. They took off with my wallet and my hearing aids and… fuck. They’re just assholes, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

But Castiel had no intentions of not worrying about it. Despite Dean trying to stop him, he stormed out of the house and took off down the street. Cas got in moods sometimes, like this, determined and angry, and Dean knew not to follow. As his feet clicked on the pavement, he ripped out his phone to call his brother.

Gabe picked up the office phone after four rings. “What?”

“Did you hear?”

“About?”

“Dean?” There was a long pause and then Castiel filled in his brother. “Those sons of bitches.”

“Castiel, do not do anything stupid,” Gabe warned.

“Stupid? Are you serious, Gabriel? You want me to sit by and let them get away with that?”

“If the alternative is confronting them, then yes.”

“They have his hearing aids, and his wallet, Gabriel. You can’t expect me to sit by and…”

“If they were able to get the jump on a guy like Dean,” Gabe started.

“From behind. I refuse to stand for this.” Gabe began to retort but Castiel hung up and turned his phone on silent, shoving it into his pocket. He was not going to take this lying down. He was done letting his brothers and his father control his life, even from afar. They could condemn and judge him all they wanted but hurting his lover was a step too far. Castiel was done. Ready to show them how he felt.

If only they hadn’t been ready for him. If only, the moment he stepped into the church parking lot, they hadn’t been waiting. And as a bag was shoved over his head and something clocked him in the back of the neck, sending him to the ground, he realized this was what they wanted all along.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s not like he ever knocked on the door. Even with his aids on he couldn’t tell if someone was coming, and right now his new ones were still being shipped in, and he had no time to wait, to wonder if Gabriel was home. Sam was due in yesterday from New York and he hadn’t heard from him which meant he was either delayed, or he was…

Yep. On the couch fucking Gabriel. Dean didn’t care. Castiel had been missing now for over twenty-four hours. This was crisis mode. Dean knew his pensive recent lover was angry and frustrated, but it wasn’t like him to disappear like that. He’d been staying with Dean for three weeks and Castiel was not the type to just go MIA.

Storming into the living room, Dean gave his brother a pointed look who had the decency to grab the afghan from the back of the couch and cover them before raising a Y hand and tapping chin. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Castiel’s missing,’ Dean signed out, stomping his foot with impatience. ‘Have you seen him?’

Sam frowned at Gabriel who shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. ‘Did you text?’ Sam asked.

Rolling his eyes Dean huffed. “No,” he said aloud to emphasize his point. ‘I’m over here interrupting a fuck session without trying text first.’

Gabriel divested himself out from under Sam and grabbed his phone. Dean watched impatiently as he dialed and held the phone to his ear. Thirty seconds passed before he dropped it and shook his head. ‘V-M,’ he signed for voicemail.

“Fuck,” Dean hissed. He ran his hands back through his hair, then waved for their attention before signing out what happened. Sam, of course, looked absolutely furious while Gabriel looked horrified and went pale.

‘Church,’ Gabe signed. ‘We need to look at the Church and at my father’s house. He’s bed-bound now after the stroke but they could have Cas there.’

Sam stood up grabbing his clothes as he tugged on his shirt and pants. ‘Dean,’ he signed as he toed on his shoes, ‘you with me, we’ll hit up the church. Gabe, the house. Call if you find anything.’

Gabe nodded and Sam wasted no time following Dean out to his car. It rumbled to life, and trying to keep calm, Dean made his way through the winding road to the little church on the hill. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to bode well.

*** 

Castiel couldn’t tell much about what was happening to him. Only that he was pretty sure bones were broken, though he was covered in ice cold water and was so numb he wasn’t sure he had limbs anymore. At the present time he was laying on the floor, a few feet away from the puddle, not that it made a difference. The concrete was freezing, and he only knew he was bleeding from somewhere because he could see the red trail from where Michael had dragged him.

A still, small voice in the back of his head told him he was going to die, and part of him hoped for it. Part of him hoped he was found though. He hoped Dean knew he hadn’t left on purpose. He’d only been trying to stand up for what was right.

His entire body was shaking still, he noticed that when he saw his hand trembling against the concrete. That was from the electric shocks. A trick Michael said he’d learned when he attended a conference to help cure people of their sins. Electric shocks worked well on the brain, he said to Castiel as he dipped Cas’ feet into the water and flipped the switch. A white projection screen was playing gay porn. It would retrain his brain how to properly enjoy the fruits of sexuality that God intended man to enjoy. They’d zap the devil out of him! Burn away those sins!

Castiel was pretty sure if that didn’t kill him, hypothermia from the ice water they doused him in every half hour would.

*** 

Gabriel tore up the steps to his home and kicked open the door. Short and more often than not laid back, he was furious. He knew. There was no denying it now. His brothers had done this and he wasn’t about to stand for it. Not now. Not ever.

He could hear voices upstairs and he tore over the old, torn shag carpet into the hall and all the way down to the master bedroom. A hospital bed had been set up in place of the four poster Chuck used to sleep in when Gabe was a child. He knew it well. He’d had his hands tied to those posters for whippings more times than he could count. Ah, good old dad.

Naomi was there now, and Gabe felt bile rise into his throat as she stood up and turned to him. Looking like the severe school marm with her pencil skirt and tight bun, she looked him up and down. “Is there a reason you felt like barging in here like this?”

“Where the hell is he?” Gabriel’s voice was low and furious.

“Who?” Naomi demanded.

Shoving her aside, Gabriel stormed to the side of his father’s bed and yanked his head over to look at him. The body was dead but the eyes, oh they were so alive. They twinkled with satisfaction as Gabe hovered over him. “Where is my brother?”

Chuck’s lips twitched, but so sound came out.

Fury raging through him, he reached over and pinched closed the tube providing oxygen to his father’s body. “If you think I’m not above killing you, old man, think again.”

Naomi began to shriek, grabbing Gabriel by his hair and she flung him backward. Hitting the dresser, Gabe caught himself before he hit the floor and stood up, rounding on his sister. “He knows. He knows what Michael did with him.”

“With whom?” Naomi asked. It was clear she didn’t know, but she’d never been a good girl and Gabriel was not letting her off the hook.

“Castiel. Michael took him and I want to know where he is.”

Naomi’s lips pursed as she made sure Chuck’s machines were in good working order. “Wherever they took him, it’s better than living with you. Or living with that artist in sin.” She turned, folding her arms over her chest. “Believe it or not, Michael wants was best for Castiel. He wants to save him.”

“From what?”

“From becoming like you.”

Something snapped. Reaching out, Gabriel took Naomi’s arm and twisted it behind her back. Marching her down the stairs, he ripped her out of the house and threw her into his car. When she tried to escape, he grabbed her by the collar and held her firm while he twisted to the side to start the engine one handed. “You’re coming with me. No one’s going to care if you scream. They know how fucked up our family is around here. They’ll just think you’re a bad girl in need of punishing.”

Naomi’s face fell, knowing how true that was. “Where are we going?”

“To help the Winchesters save our brother before Michael kills him.”

*** 

“Believe it or not, we’re helping Castiel. And believe it or not, he wants our help.” Michael was standing in front of the pulpit with his arms crossed, close enough for Dean to read his lips. “He wants this.”

“My ass,” Dean spat, taking a step closer. “Tell us where he is or we take this building down piece by piece.”

Michael laughed and shook his head. “You don’t frighten me, Dean. You see, you have demons on your side. And I…” he looked up at a statue of a crucified Jesus and let out a euprhoric sigh. “I have the lord with me. And he shall not let me fail.”

Looking beyond Michael, Dean saw a door cracked open. Cold air was rushing up and he didn’t need to know, to know that Castiel was down there. The fear flickering across Michael’s face confirmed it. Turning to his brother, his hands raised. ‘You go down there and get Cas. I’ll handle this douchebag.’

Sam nodded and just as Michael lunged for Dean, Sam rushed past him, trusting his brother to finish the job. 

Michael was fast, and strong. He had most certainly been the man who attacked Dean from behind. But this time Dean was ready for him. This time he was prepared and he wasn’t about to let some god-fearing jackass try and destroy the one thing he allowed himself to love.

Side stepping Michael’s blow, he got in a few until fists got him in the jaw. Then another in the eye. He grappled with the man, backing him up and knocking over the pulpit. Michael managed to throw him into the pews and he let out a loud oomph that he felt deep in his chest. Squinting with his one good eye, he saw Michael looming over him with his fist poised. A foot connected with his ribs.

Then, when he thought another blow was going to rain down on him, Michael was ripped away. He felt the thud near him, and when he sat up, Michael was laying unconscious by the fallen pulpit. Over him was Gabriel, and he had a small statue in his hands. Standing off to the side looking horrified was a woman he vaguely recognized from around town.

Holding out his hand, Gabriel helped Dean to his feet. ‘Where’s Sam and Cas?’

Dean winced at the head rush and he made a vague gesture toward the open door. Gabe started ahead with the woman following behind, and Dean brought up the rear. He was dizzy, hurt, a bruised or broken rib perhaps, but he was in good condition. He’d suffered worse. The cold rush of hair hit him first as Gabe wrenched open the door and they began the trek down.

*** 

Castiel was sure he was hallucinating. Lifted from his spot on the floor, he was laid down on a beaten mattress which felt like heaven compared to the concrete flooring. He let out a moan which hurt, and his entire body ached. He was shivering from the cold, from the electric shocks, and he struggled to open his eyes. Who was it? Not Michael. There was no way.

Peering one eye open, he stared into the face of the Giant Moose Winchester. Sam’s expression was drawn, furious as he put his giant paws all over Castiel’s skin. They felt like fire against the aching cold and he hissed so loud, Sam pulled away.

“Cas, can you move?”

His voice came out an aching whisper, “I don’t think so. Where’s Michael? Be careful he…”

“He’s out cold.” The voice of his brother rang through the dark. Cas couldn’t see them, but he heard three sets of footsteps. Forcing both eyes open, he struggled to look around in the dim room and to his horror he saw his sister standing there at Gabe’s elbow. Dean was behind her, his expression unreadable, but Cas didn’t miss the blackened eye and the blood dripping freely from his nose.

He watched as Gabe took Naomi’s elbow and gave her a shove forward to look down at Cas. “You see now,” he hissed in her ear. You see what their love is really like?”

 

*** 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, only that when he woke he was aching all over, but warm and safe. He was in a bed that smelled familiar, and although he had an intermittent tremor in his hands, he was no longer shaking. The squeak from the door opening startled Castiel and he sat up a little, wincing at just how damn much everything hurt.

Dean stood there with a tray in his hands, balanced precariously in the center a hot bowl of soup without a spoon. He caught Castiel’s eye before sitting down on the edge of the bed and setting the tray across Cas’ thighs. “You’ve been in and out for a while. I figured you’d be hungry.”

Cas let out a breath, staring at the soup, then back at Dean. The Winchester still looked thoroughly worked over, there were bruises on top of bruises, and one of his eyes wasn’t open yet. His lips were puffy, and there was a sunset of color across his right cheek.

Lifting his hands, Castiel winced as he saw them shake, but managed to sign, “You ok?”

Dean’s smile widened a little. “Right as rain. Trust me, this ain’t nothin’. You should see your brother.”

At that, Castiel flinched hard and Dean’s face immediately fell. The Winchester began to sputter an apology, but Cas quickly waved him off, holding up all five fingers and tapping himself on the chest.

With a sigh, Dean shoved the bowl of soup closer. “I noticed your hands were uh…” He didn’t finish the thought. “It’s not too hot, you can just pick it up.”

Cas let out a small breath, picked up the bowl, but his muscles were still twitching from the electric shocks his brother had given him. As he tried to lift it to his mouth, it trembled so hard soup began to tip over the side. Letting out a frustrated growl, Cas started to put the soup down, but Dean’s hands quickly closed over his, holding them steady. He met Castiel’s eyes just for a second, then looked away, giving Cas a moment of privacy to deal with this moment.

He hated it, but he drank the soup and then laid back. He wanted to talk to Dean, to tell him thanks, to express just how lucky he was Dean hadn’t given up on him. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Mostly right then he wanted to be alone. He got his wish, Dean sensing Cas needed some space, and turning off the light, he provided the space Castiel needed to heal.

A few days later Sam showed up with a huge stack of papers. Knocking on the door, he entered when Cas told him it was open, and he dropped the massive folder on the edge of the bed. “You got a minute?”

Cas struggled to sit up. His cracked ribs hurt every time he moved, but everything else was healing and the tremor in his hands was now intermittent, triggered mostly by stress and exhaustion. He nodded to Sam as he moved over for Sam to sit.

“Look, I know what happened was…” Sam trailed off, shaking his head. “You know, you hear these things as a kid, rumors about families, but you always want to believe that’s all they are.”

Cas let out a bitter laugh. “Well I can say my father never took it as far as Michael.”

“Yeah well, he’s going to pay for what he did.”

The finality of Sam’s voice startled Cas, and he sat up further. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, my firm and I are taking on a case against him. We’re working with the State Attorney and although your brother’s being represented by the Church’s legal team, we have a solid case. I wanted to let you know though, you will be expected to testify. And if you have any evidence of childhood abuse, I’d like you to turn it over to me. We’re subpoenaing all of your siblings as well.”

That was like a fresh blow to his already open, festering wounds, and Cas felt sick. It’s not that he didn’t want his brother to pay, but having to relive all of it… Nodding his head, Castiel decided it was now or never. “I’m not sure how well I’m going to hold up, but I’ll see what I can find. Just know my siblings won’t be entirely cooperative.”

“We don’t expect most of them to be,” Sam said. He reached out and shuffled the papers inside the folder for a minute. “Unfortunately for your sister Naomi, she’s a witness. We have enough evidence to press assault charges and enough evidence so your brother won’t be able to plea down from a felony, though he may get a reduced sentence.” Sam hesitated, then reached out and touched Castiel’s shoulder briefly. “Cas, I need to do this, I can’t let this slide, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

Licking his lips, Cas shook his head and let out a breath. “It’s not just for me, Sam. It’s for all of my brothers and sisters. It’s for Gabe, too. He didn’t escape unharmed from that man’s wrath.”

Sam’s face paled a little, then he nodded. “He won’t talk about it.”

Castiel let out a small, bitter laugh. “No, no he won’t. But if you need him to, to protect others he will.”

Standing up, Sam gathered up the papers and started for the door. Before he left, he turned back to the man in the bed and asked, “Is there anything you need?”

Castiel hesitated. There was something he needed, but he was afraid to ask for it, afraid of the pain it might cause, but he had to think of himself right then. He had to. “I um… I need to go home for a while. Because I love Dean but I’m not sure I’m okay right now.”

Sam’s face tightened but he nodded. “He told me you’d probably say that. Gabe will be by in a few hours to help you home.”

*** 

Dean wasn’t home when Castiel left, and for the next two weeks Cas didn’t see much of anyone. Not Sam, not Gabe, and not his would-be lover. But things weren’t getting better. Gabe sensed it, too, sensed that if something didn’t give Castiel was going to break, and that’s when he gave his brother the news.

“Balthazar is heading back into town.” They were sitting at the dinner table eating a roast Dean cooked and sent over, and Castiel’s gaze snapped up.

“What?”

“Look dude, you’re not okay. You’re not okay and everyone knows it, so you have to go.”

Eyes going wide, Castiel set down his fork. “Go where, exactly?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. You need an out, man, and this is it. Balthazar’s coming and Sam was able to get your passport and papers all fixed up. He even said as long as you have the net you can video conference your testimony when the time comes. You gotta get the hell out of here baby bro, or you’re going to have a melt down and you won’t be any good to any of us all locked away in some padded room with Lucy.”

Hands trembling, Cas put them on his lap. “So you’re kicking me out.”

“Damn right I am. You’re going with our brother and you’re going to get some sunshine, some booze, some ocean, and some fresh perspective on life. You’re not going to talk to a therapist and frankly there aren’t any in this shithole town who can help you anyway. But I think Balthazar can. Unfortunately none of us are taking no for an answer. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Cas sat there staring at his barely touched roast until Gabriel cleared the table and went off to work. A few minutes after the car pulled out of the drive, Castiel stood and started to walk. Hitting the streets wasn’t easy. Every tiny noise made him whip around in panic, like his brother had someone out for him. But he made it the twenty minutes from his house to Dean’s and without knocking, he let himself in.

Through the porch window, Cas could see the bright lights under the gazebo and saw the silhouette of Dean painting away. He went out the back door and crossed the lawn. Dean had seen him coming when his shadow was cast over the ground, and he set down his brush as Cas crossed the distance between them.

His arms twitched, like he wanted to pull Cas in for a hug, but he stood there stoic and silent. When Cas stepped into the light, he was able to get a good look at Dean’s face. Still bruised, the swelling had gone down and all that was left was a wash of purples and greens across his face. He also had new hearing aids tucked behind his ears, and he reached up to adjust them.

‘How’s your face?’ Cas asked with his hands.

Dean shrugged. ‘Ok. Better.’

Licking his lips, Cas said, “Can I talk to you?”

Dean gestured to the set of chairs and they sat, Cas staring at Dean for the longest time. Eventually Dean let out a chuckle and said, “You okay, Cas?”

“I um… I. No. I’m not. I’m not doing well.” Castiel rubbed his hand down his face. “Can you understand me okay? Because I don’t think I have the signs for this.”

Dean swallowed hard and then nodded. “Yeah, you’re good. What’s up?”

“Gabriel asked me to leave. Apparently my brother Balthazar is on his way into town.”

Dean let out a breath, then smiled. “I know. Gabe came to me first.”

Castiel blinked, confused and a little hurt. “You want me… gone?”

Eyes going wide, Dean reached out and attempted to grab Castiel’s hands, but Cas flinched hard. Dean’s smile faded. “No. That’s the last thing I want. But I also want to be able to come in for a hug without you fearing you’re about to get beat down. Cas, I’m not sure the full scope of what happened to you as a kid. Hell, I’m not sure I really want to. But what I saw down there was fucked up shit, more fucked up than I’ve seen in a long damn time, and you need time to heal from this. Away from this fresh slice of Kansas hell. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure you’ll ever be well enough to come back. I wanna be selfish. I wanna be selfish and pretend like I know how to fix you so I can keep you, but I’m not that stupid. So yeah, I know about Balthazar.”

Tears welled in his eyes, but not from rejection. From pain of his past and pain of knowing it was still far from over. They were also from gratitude because for the first time in his life someone was putting him first, what he needed first. Standing up, he beckoned Dean to follow him inside, and when they reached the living room, he reached out with a tentative hand and touched the center of Dean’s chest.

“I’m not sure I…” he trailed off. “I’m not sure what I can handle, but I think I need you tonight. Will you sleep with me?”

“You don’t gotta ask me twice.”

Together they made their way back to Dean’s bedroom. The smells were familiar, bringing with them pain from the memories of his rescue, and comfort from all the smells of Dean and home. They shed clothes down to boxers and climbed under the covers together. Dean stayed still, letting Castiel take the lead, letting him take what he needed from Dean.

He wanted to be big spoon, to bury his nose in Dean’s hair and for just one night try and forget the road ahead.

*** 

It was five AM when Sam woke Cas. He shook Castiel by the shoulder until Cas flinched, turning hard and staring at Sam. “Sorry,” the younger Winchester said. “Your brother’s here and you two have a flight in two hours.

Castiel blinked, eyes bleary and head confused. He attempted to focus on Sam’s face, then glanced down at Dean who remained undisturbed. “I… thought I’d have more time.”

“Now or never, Cas.”

Licking his lips, he looked back down at Dean. “I need a moment.” Sam nodded and left the room, closing the door tightly as he went. With a heavy sigh, Cas put his hand on the center of Dean’s back, then gently pulled his fingers to Dean’s shoulder and shook him.

It took a second, but eventually Dean’s eyes opened. When they saw Cas wide awake, they widened and Dean shook the sleep from his head. “Cas?”

“My brother’s here. He’s booked a flight for two hours from now. I… I have to leave.” Castiel’s voice broke, but his resolved didn’t. Everyone was right. If he was going to heal, he had to leave.

Taking a breath, Dean sat up on his elbow, then pulled Cas in for a hug, kissing him hard and furious. “I’m going to miss you so damn much. I don’t know if you’re ever going to be back but if you are, look me up. I’ll be here.”

Cas shook his head, pulling away. “I can’t ask you to wait for me, Dean.”

“I’m not asking you to. Just know you have a place here, okay? No matter what.”

Nodding, he pulled the covers back and fished around for his clothes. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Dean as he dressed, but with his shoes toed on, he finally glanced over to see Dean’s eyes wide and watery.

“I’m sorry,” Cas choked out, hating that Dean was hurting. Hating himself because he thought he wasn’t hurting enough.

Dean shook his head, waving Cas off. ‘You need this. I need you to get better.’ His fingers were trembling as he signed, but Cas assumed it was probably a stronger way to speak than his voice right now.

Nodding, he turned and went for the door. He stepped out into the hall, but was struck with an overwhelming sense of loss and found himself turning, walking back into the room. A few tears were leaking down Dean’s face as he lay there, and Cas rushed over, taking Dean’s face in his and kissed him hard.

“Dean I…” His voice betrayed him, so he pressed his hand into Dean’s and dropped his middle and ring finger, the rest extended. ‘I love you.’

Dean let out a laugh choked with tears and he shoved Cas away. “I know. Now go or you’re going to miss your flight.”

Nodding, Cas removed himself and this time, as the door shut, he didn’t turn back.

*** 

They were in Paris, knees backward on a bench leaning over the railing that overlooked the Seine. It was dusk, and there were sweet, heavy smells coming from the Chinese restaurant around the corner. Two benches over a couple was having a furious argument in German. He was angry because she left him on the metro and spent the entire night at a rave party near the firehouse.

Cas turned and looked at his brother who was lost in his thoughts. They didn’t say much, Balthazar content to listen when Castiel needed to talk, but mostly he just made sure Cas had plenty to eat, drink, and had the tools to write when he felt compelled. And Cas wrote. A lot. Most of his days were spent on Balthazar’s boat lost in his words. Sometimes he wrote things in notebooks, writing down memories and then burning them, letting the embers float off on the breeze and carried out into the ocean.

Sometimes he wrote love letters to Dean which he hid away under his pillow. During the winter they went to Spain and Balthazar booked them a little villa on the coast. It belonged to a friend, he said. Cas expected to meet some of these friends but it was always just the two of them.

By spring they took a trip around the Mediterranean, stopping only when Balthazar was moved to explore a beach or a town. Cas trailed behind his brother like a lost puppy, not really taking in the sites or sounds, though he enjoyed the food and the occasional drink with the locals. Often times they camped out on the sand under the stars. Twice they woke up with the tide washing over them.

It was the first hint of summer when Castiel realized he was healing. They’d stopped in Nice for the week. Balthazar was feeling moved to enjoy a resort, so he booked them a suite near the ocean and Cas spent a large amount of time sunning himself on their expansive terrace. He’d typed The End on his book weeks ago, and he was following his old writing professor’s advice and giving himself six weeks before he began to tackle the other half of attempting to be published.

Castiel knew everyone expected him to write a memoir, but a love story came out instead and he was happy with it. The door to the suite banged open and Balthazar swaggered in, two frozen, reddish drinks in hand.

“They have the freshest produce here. I swear I could live and die by this stuff.” He handed one off to Cas who took a sip and had to agree. “I feel like we need to find a party tonight. What say you, Cassie? Should we go rub elbows with some of the locals? I might be a bit old for the university crowd, but they do love my charisma.”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel sat up and shrugged. “I think that could be enjoyable.”

Balthazar’s eyes widened. He’d asked a dozen and one times if Castiel wanted to join him for a party, and a dozen times Castiel had said no. But he didn’t push it. “Shower then, yes? And I’ll go find us some tour guides.” He waggled his eyebrows and spun on his heel, leaving the suite with a wave of his hand.

Laughing to himself, Cas swung his legs over the chair and stood up. He stretched languidly, his arms dark brown from the constant sun, and he ran his fingers back through his hair. Picking up his journal, he turned to the entry he’d been working on before Balthazar arrived.

Dear Dean,

There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t miss you, but for the first time since I left, I don’t feel afraid of myself anymore.

That’s where it ended. He couldn’t think of what else to say. Putting the journal under his pillow, he went into the bathroom to start the shower. It warmed slowly, so he stood in front of the mirror and raised his hands. 

‘I miss you every second. I wonder if I’ll ever be strong enough to return to that place.’ It was in sign, because he never gave up hope he’d see Dean again. He just wasn’t sure he’d ever be brave enough to go back.

Hopping in the shower, Castiel scrubbed off, got out, and dressed. Nothing fancy, some shorts and one of Balthazar’s button up shirts. He never bothered with his hair, and none of the locals this far from the States ever seemed to care. They loved his shaggy locks and blue eyes and silly American accent.

By the time Balthazar arrived, he was half drunk and Castiel was ready to go. Without saying much, he followed his brother down the stairs, out the front doors of the hotel, and across the sand. The people having the party were a small group of English people who were renting a beachside cottage. There was low thumping music, the heavy smell of weed, and several groups of people milling around talking.

“You’ll get on with them well,” Balthazar told his brother as he held the door open. “Come on.” Pulling Cas through the main lounge, they found their way into the kitchen where there were bottles of wine everywhere. Balthazar poured them two scotches with thick slices of lime, then brought Cas out back. A large, expansive porch extended out with a hot tub in the corner, and plush couches littering every corner. One L-shaped settee had a group of people surrounding a black iron fire pit.

Balthazar saluted the group and motioned for Cas to sit. “You lot, this is my baby brother Castiel. Cassie, this is Ruby, Meg, Lillith, Pamela, and Fergus, but we call him Fergie.”

The short, squat, sour-faced man glowered at Balthazar. “Crowley, if you please. But nice to meet you, Castiel. Pleasure to have you join us.” There was something slimy about the way he spoke, and Balthazar answered Castiel’s unspoken question.

“He’s an ethics professor at Kings College, and quite unqualified I’m afraid. Probably the least ethical man I know. Booted from the States, weren’t you old man? For sordid affairs with your students.”

“They were never able to prove it, were they?” Crowley asked with a wink.

At first Castiel wanted to feel uncomfortable, until he realized Balthazar brought him there for a reason. Sipping his scotch, he sat back to listen. Pamela, Meg, and Ruby were from the States. Meg and Ruby worked together in advertising, and Pamela traveled often with a renaissance faire working as a tarot card reader.

“I’m extremely psychic,” she said, leaning over to touch Castiel’s knee. They’d been talking for several hours now, and Castiel had his eye on her. Pamela didn’t move like the rest of them. Never made eye contact, never got up from her seat. Never let her drink leave her hand. “I’m also mostly blind, since you were wondering.” She waggled her eyebrows up and down.

“I didn’t say anything,” Castiel muttered.

“No, but you were thinking it.” At Castiel’s silence, she laughed. “There’s something about you, Cas. Something I like.”

“I’ll say.” That was Meg, in her quiet drawl as she moved closer to Castiel. “What say you and I take a walk up the beach? Hmm Clarence?”

Everyone chuckled, and Castiel was just drunk enough to agree. He was on his fifth scotch and a walk sounded good. The sun was going to be up soon, but he wasn’t tired. They tossed their shoes by the wall as they stepped into the white sands and Meg led the way directly to the water. A wave washed up, slow and cold, and Cas let out a hiss.

“So, you seem like the quiet, broken type. You running and hiding?”

“More like taking a holiday from life,” Cas said with a shrug. Meg reached over and took his hand.

“Aren’t we all?”

“No.” His mind wandered back to Dean and he let out a breath. “Not all of us.”

Meg laughed and pulled him close. “Mmm I suppose not. But those brave ones are the stupid ones, you know.”

He didn’t say anything back, and in the quiet breeze, she leaned up on her toes and kissed him. It felt nice, as far as kisses were concerned. She was good at it, and it had been long enough since he’d been touched. Almost a full year since he’d left Kansas.

But it felt… wrong. Her hands were too small, face too soft, body too… not Dean. Pushing her away, Cas gave her a slightly embarrassed smile. “Sorry.”

“What’s his name?” She laughed when Castiel’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh come on Clarence, I can read it all over your face. You’re not a jilted lover, and it’s been a while since someone turned me down. So what’s his name?”

“Dean.”

“Dean.” She repeated the word like she was tasting it on her tongue. “Lucky man, Dean. To have you all wrapped up so far away.” Reaching into her pocket, Meg pulled out a joint and lit it. She took a long drag, holding it in tight before she let the smoke drift lazily from her nose and mouth. She passed it over to Cas who took it without a second thought. “It’s not really you I’m interested in, anyway.”

“Crowley?” Castiel asked the question, but he knew the answer.

“Keeps me on the hook, but I don’t mind it so much. Sometimes I get great sex out of it. He’s never really been one for monogamy.”

Castiel was about to reply when he saw the shadow of his brother crossing the sand. He had Pamela on his arm with Ruby trailing behind, and Meg looked disappointed Crowley didn’t join them. “Cassie darling, guess what our friend Ruby just told me?”

Castiel hummed as he took another drag of the joint and passed it off to his brother. “Couldn’t begin to guess.”

“Darling Ruby here knows your friend Sam Winchester.”

Castiel’s eyebrows went up and his gaze snapped to her. “Sam?”

“Good old Sammy,” Ruby drawled and shook her head. “Heartbreaker, that one. We had a brief fling in high school. Unfortunately he was more interested in dick.”

Castiel choked a little on the smoke and turned his head to cough. “I uh…”

“Cut the crap, I know he’s with your brother now. It’s no big deal. Those two Winchesters were damaged goods to begin with. Especially that Dean. Real dick if I do say so myself.”

Castiel felt his face go hot, but before he could respond, Pam had his arm and she was tugging him to the water. “Come on, walk with me grumpy.”

Allowing himself to be pulled away, Pam took his hand and they walked along the hard, wet packed sand until they couldn’t hear the group any longer. “Thank you,” he eventually said as she settled on the ground.

“My pleasure. Ruby’s a sweet girl, but sometimes she likes to step in it.” Pam patted the sand and Cas sank down next to her. “I wouldn’t worry about her too much. We’re all a little broken.”

Rubbing his face, Cas let out a hum and hugged his knees to his chest. “I suppose.”

With a half-smile, Pam grabbed his hand and spread it palm up. Her fingers began to feel out the lines, tracing them with a delicate touch against every crack and crevice. “Yeah. Poor kid. You’ve seen the worst of it.” She paused, her face turned up to the stars. “You’re gonna be okay though, you know that, right?”

“Sometimes I do wonder.”

“You will.” She continued to trace along until her hand froze. Her face dropped and she yanked her hand away. “I’m sorry Cas. I’m so…”

It was then Balthazar came running up and he pulled Cast to his feet. “We have to get back to the boat. I’ve just got a call.” Refusing to elaborate, Castiel was torn from these people, over the sands, over the sidewalk. He was wrenched past the resort and onto the docks where Balthazar unlocked the gates and hurried to the boat.

It felt like an eternity before Balthazar turned to Cas, standing on the deck looking terrified and confused. “Are you going to explain yourself?”

Balthazar sighed and took Cas by the shoulders. “We have to sail home. Chuck is dead.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a huge gap between chapters but hopefully it's all tied together now! Let me know if you liked it. Caio!

_“And can you please tell us in detail, Mr Shurley, what happened when your father would become angry.”_

_“I uh…” His voice cracked, hands shaking. He stared at the computer screen without blinking, his eyes dry and aching. His tongue moved, scraping the roof of his mouth in an attempt to speak, but he failed. He glanced off to his left, to the closed door and he knew Balthazar was waiting just outside._

_“Mr Shurley.” The lawyer stepped in front of the screen. “Do you need me to rephrase the question?”_

_“No I…”_

Castiel woke with a start and was dismayed to find they were still high in the air. The plane dipped for a second, shaking as they hit a few air pockets, then it evened out. Rubbing his face, he nodded a thanks when Balthazar passed over a glass of wine.

“We should be heading into Kansas City in about an hour.”

Cas felt his breath come out in shaking gasps. He reached over and lifted up the widow flap, but they were high above a stretch of clouds. There was nothing but white below them. His hands trembled as he set the empty plastic cup on the tray, and he wondered what was next.

With Michael in jail, Lucifer locked up still, Raphael god knows where—no one had heard from him since he started up his church in Los Angeles—there was Naomi left to pick up the pieces. Zachariah was next in line to head up the church, but he was on probation for his part in kidnapping Castiel.

Samandriel and Anna were around, but according to Gabriel’s latest email, they weren’t speaking to anyone in the family. Cas felt his stomach twist. Chuck passed Friday night at eleven fifty-seven. Three minutes to midnight.

It felt significant, but Cas wasn’t sure why just yet. Leaning his head back against the seat, he forced his mind away from everything. Not because he was afraid of his family anymore, not because he couldn’t handle his past, but because there was one person he was afraid wasn’t waiting there for him now. He was ready to come home, but to him, home meant Dean. And what if he wasn’t there.

Castiel had spoken to Gabe twice, but had been too afraid to ask.

*** 

Balthazar handled the car rental, and Castiel offered to drive but was glad when his brother declined the offer. He tried not to watch with huge, nervous eyes the passing of the scenery as they drove to and through Lawrence. He tried not to feel his breath hitch high in his throat as they stepped into Eudora, passing the city sign, the gas station, the church. There was a banner out front, black with letters of mourning. Castiel couldn’t bring himself to look at it.

He shifted, feeling the weight of his bag and his laptop against his leg, and he pressed his forehead to the glass, closing his eyes. He breathed so rapidly the window fogged up, and he pulled himself away. “So what now?”

“Gabriel’s waiting for us. I probably won’t stick around unless you need me. He might have been my father, but there was no relationship there. I don’t belong here right now.”

Castiel wanted to argue, wanted to tell Balthazar that he was partially responsible for keeping Castiel from flinging himself off a cliff. Literally. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t because Balthazar was right and whatever monster they were going to bury, the siblings would be mourning. Balthazar would not be.

They pulled into Gabe’s driveway and Castiel got out. The porch was the same. Everything was the same. Nothing had changed. A small flutter ran through him at the thought that Dean hadn’t come over to fix things up. He wondered if Sam would be over, but he shoved the thought away.

He found Gabe in the living room, sitting on the couch watching some medical drama, Dr. Sexy or whatever it was called. He paused behind the couch as he heard the crunch of gravel when Balthazar pulled the car out and took off down the street.

“He’s not staying?”

Cas jumped at the sound of his brother’s voice, then cleared his throat. “Uh no. He said he’d rather not.”

“Lucky son of a bitch.” Gabe turned for a second, his eyes moving up and down Castiel’s form. “You going to stand there all day?”

“I’ve been sitting on a plane for sixteen hours. I’m in no hurry to sit again.”

Gabriel laughed, then offered Cas a beer which he declined. “You look good. Fit. Tan. Europe was good to you, baby bro.”

Castiel’s lips tugged up at the corners and eventually he lowered himself into the chair. He stared at Gabe who looked the same, if not a little more round in the middle. But he seemed okay. Happy, Cas supposed, or as happy as any of his siblings could be still living in this shit town. 

They settled into a silence though, comfortable between the two of them. Dean—the elephant in the room—went unmentioned. So did the funeral. For the next little while the brothers just sat and though he wasn’t sure of it, Cas couldn’t help but assume Gabe was thinking the same thing he was. Their father was dead. Michael was in jail. Right now they were finally free.

*** 

Castiel was supposed to be on his way to the funeral parlor to meet with his sister. It was only five minutes away, but he’d been in the car for twenty. For the fifth time he passed by that little run-down house where an Impala should have been parked. At the moment, the front yard was empty. Dean’s car and Sam’s truck were missing, and Castiel began to feel a sinking suspicion that both brothers had taken off.

Forcing himself out of his worry, he finally pushed hard on the gas pedal and pulled into the parking lot of the mortuary. Gabe’s car was already there, and in the front window he could see a flash of red hair meaning Anna had showed. There’d been no word from Raphael, according to Gabe, and none from Samandriel though Cas couldn’t blame the youngest for his absence.

Lucifer was still drugged to oblivion and despite Michael’s incarceration, no one seemed inclined to spring their older brother from the box. With a sigh, Cas turned off the car and stepped onto the pavement. It was wet from an afternoon rain, and at the present time it was a little sunny, muggy and too damn hot.

His shoes made a clicking sound which seemed to echo as he crossed the parking lot to the front door. Gabe was outside, just on the other side of the wall, smoking. He raised an eyebrow at Cas who paused. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. Naomi had them start without you.”

Cas sighed, but shrugged and leaned against the wall instead of going inside. “I promised I’d be here.”

“Yeah well, some promises are meant to be broken.”

Cas nodded, then looked his brother up and down. “Trying not to run.”

“White knuckles, bro. It ain’t easy.”

Pursing his lips, Castiel looked over at the door handle and contemplated taking Gabe’s hand and running off into the afternoon. They could do something—anything—that wasn’t this. But they were adults and whatever monster he was, Chuck had been their father and they had responsibilities.

“Go on. I’ll be in after the smoke.”

Cas worried his lower lip between his teeth. He thought about asking after Dean, or even Sam, but decided now was not the time. He hadn’t had the guts to bring it up before bed last night, and he wasn’t sure he had them now. Turning on his heel, he ripped the door open and stepped into the parlor.

The Shurley children were gathered in a small room right off the lobby. Naomi, unable to meet his eyes directly, waved him in and pointed to a set of empty chairs meant from him and Gabriel. Anna was sitting slumped down, a piece of red hair twirled around her finger. Naomi gave her a sharp look but his younger sister refused to acknowledge the older one.

“You must be Castiel,” the man behind the desk began. “We’re just discussing funerary arrangements, then we’ll have your father’s lawyer come in to discuss his assets.”

Castiel almost snorted. What assets? Besides the Church which he would prefer to see shut down, the Shurley family had next to nothing. Their family attorney, a slimy man by the name of Alistair, sat in the corner with his hands clasped over his crooked knee. His yellowish brown eyes darted around the room and Castiel felt sick.

No, this was not the place he wanted to be. Not the place he needed to be. He pictured his father burning in hell for what he’d done, only because he couldn’t imagine any god described as benevolent and loving, praising what that monster of a man had done to his children. 

It was becoming too much. Just as Gabriel walked into the room, Castiel shot out of his seat, mumbled something about Gabriel texting him with the info, and then he was gone. He was in the car, driving off and not sure where he was going until he pulled up to the Winchester’s home. It was a long shot, but he was taking the risk.

He reached out and hit the doorbell, but instead of flickering lights, he heard a chime. That did not bode well. A few seconds passed and then the door opened. Cas half expected to see a stranger instead of Sam, but he let out an almost-sob of relief when the tall, long-haired moose pulled open the door.

“Jesus. I was not expecting you.” There was a pregnant pause as Cas just stood there shaking and Sam quickly reached out to pull him inside. “Cas, you okay?”

“I…” It was all that would come out.

Sam frowned, then realization dawned on him and he hurried Cas into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. “Right. The funeral parlor. Is it over?”

Shaking his head, Cas gulped down a few mouthfuls of the too-cold liquid and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ah no. They’re all still down there. I just um…” his voice broke. “It wasn’t for me.” He sank into the chair and looked around, but there was no sign of Sam’s brother. “Gabe told you I was back?”

“I figured as much. When he died and everything.” Sam shifted from foot to foot, hesitant. “You want something to eat?”

“Thank you, but no.”

Cas looked around again, and Sam let out a sigh. “Gabe didn’t tell you.”

Castiel’s face went white. “Tell me what?”

“It was about a week after you left. I think he realized you weren’t coming back. Or if you were, it wasn’t going to be any time soon.”

Cas swallowed thickly, his throat constricted and aching. “I… apologize. I told you I wouldn’t hurt him and…”

“Extenuating circumstances, Cas. Seriously.” Sam reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “No one blames you, not me and especially not Dean. But he had to get out.”

“Where?”

Sam sighed, rubbing his face. “He didn’t say. He sort of quit texting me about six months ago. He went off to see if he could get his art off the ground. Last I heard he had a few gallery showings in New York but nothing I could confirm. I wanted to give him his space, so I didn’t check.”

Castiel felt his heart shatter into pieces all over again, and he forced himself not to let out the ragged, choked sob which was begging to be released. Swallowing more water, he sat back. “Can I…?” He glanced back toward Dean’s room and Sam gave a hurried nod.

“Yeah of course. Take all the time you need. If you wanna crash here for a few nights, you’re always welcome.”

Standing up, he felt almost like he was floating as he made the too-familiar trek down the hall. Dean’s room was closed, a little musty smelling when he opened it, and exactly the same. Wherever Dean had gone, he didn’t see fit to take most of his things. The bed was unmade, a few letters and sketchbooks scattered around on the dresser and edge of the bed.

The smell was so familiar it hurt. Cas pressed the palm of his hand in the center of his chest as he sank down into the mattress. He toed off his shoes, curling his legs under him and let his face bury into the pillow. The scent of Dean had faded quite a bit, but there was a little left. He breathed it in and hated himself for how weak he’d been. If he’d stayed… well…

He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. His eyes slipped closed for a little while and he tried to remember what being here with Dean had been like. It was so far away now though. So damn far.

“I’ve never seen him love anyone the way he loved you.” Sam’s voice sounded from the doorway and Cas sat up a little, blushing with shame for falling asleep the way he did. Walking in, Sam sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the sketchbook laying there. “I took these out after he left. My brother and I haven’t ever really been apart. Not like this. He needs it but it’s not easy.”

Sam flipped through a few pages as Cas sat all the way up. “Gabriel has always been there for me, but I think we never really learned how to love each other. Not the way you two did.”

“What? Co-dependent and unhealthy?” Sam let out a laugh and shook his head. “It’s not a bad thing.” He paused on one of the pages, then closed the book. “Gabe told me the night you meet Dean, you thought I was cheating on Gabe with him.”

Castiel let out a small, huffed laugh. “The sketch.”

“I was always one of his favorite subjects. He always said hearing people don’t use their full range of expressions, but growing up with Dean, I learned to. He was fascinated by you, though. He said your face didn’t move enough, but you could read a novel in your eyes. I never paid attention before, but he’s right.”

Cas’ eyes dropped to the bed covers and he let out a slow breath. “I shouldn’t have expected him to be here waiting.”

“But you did? And it hurts?”

Cas nodded. Reaching out, he took the book from Sam’s hands and began to thumb through it. A lot of it was random stuff. Stills from the garden, a few of Sam, a couple of Sam and Gabe in candid embraces. The last one though, made Castiel catch his breath. It was him. Asleep in Dean’s bed. It was done in pencil but it might as well have been a photograph it was so detailed. He remembered that night, too. The drunken night he’d showed up and showed Dean his raw pain and frustration.

“I made him run.”

Sam winced, then shook his head. “Everything made him run. Cas, when you met Dean, he was half alive.” Sam paused, then let out a sigh. “Dean was four when our mom died. He remembered her. I never did. And…” he trailed off, his head shaking. “I used to be so angry at him, you know? I mean, I was just a kid and I was so damn tired of feeling like it was me and Dean against the world. Shuffling off from home to home because our case worker said that due to crippling anxiety my brother and I couldn’t be separated. And no one wanted to take in the Deaf kid. And I had to translate everywhere we went because no one could be bothered to learn. I remember nights he’d be up crying until his throat gave out, days he’d stand in front of the mirror just screaming because he couldn’t get it, couldn’t understand how sounds worked. He’d bang his head against the wall because the concept made no sense to him but they kept pushing him and forcing him. Sent him to a hearing school with no interpreter. Punished him when his grades failed. And all I could do was be angry because he remembered a time in our lives where we had a mom and a dad and we got pb and j with the crusts cut off and chocolate milk and pie. And he knew it. He knew I resented him and he felt guilty. Like somehow it was his fault our mother was murdered and our dad never recovered and we got stuck in home after home. So he did it. For me. He learned to speak and to read lips and to function in the world of the hearing because he felt like he owed me.”

Sam’s voice cracked at the end and his head shook. “When he met Benny I was so judgmental. I accused him of doing it to get back at me for the whole going off to college thing. I couldn’t get my head out of my own ass long enough to see that Dean just needed to do something for him. I’m not saying Benny was a good guy because he wasn’t. When he met you I just… panicked. When you left, for about five minutes I was happy because I thought you going would protect him. But I was wrong and now you’re back and he’s not here and I feel like I fucked up everything for everyone.”

Castiel took this all in, letting it soak and simmer and seep into the aches all over his body. “You didn’t make me leave, Sam. I’m not sure what I can say about the wounds you two have from your past, but I wasn’t good for him. I wasn’t fair.”

“I told him you’re back.” Sam waited for that to sink in before he continued. “He hasn’t answered my texts in months, but I sent it anyway.” Sam looked down at the drawing of Cas and sighed. “You’re worthy of his love, and he’s worthy of yours. I just hope he hasn’t given up.”

*** 

A tiny piece of Castiel hoped Dean would respond. That one day Cas would hear the quiet rumble of the impala pulling into his drive. Then he’d open the door and they’d stare at each other. Then they’d have their rom-com moment of crossing the distance in slow motion and kissing and all would be well.

The only call Castiel got after burying his father was from Balthazar. “Don’t be angry with me, but I’ve got you an agent.”

Castiel blinked rapidly. “A… what?”

“You remember my dear friend Crowley?”

“The asshole from the beach?”

“The very one. He’s on his way there this week. He wants to offer you a contract for your book. He might be a piece of shit, but he’s good at his job. He loves your book, Cas, so don’t slam the door in his face without hearing what he has to say first.”

Crowley arrived Wednesday. Gabriel was home at the time, and eventually laughed in Crowley’s face. “You want my bro to sign over a ten year contract to you? Without any guarantee of success? What else do you want, his soul?”

“If there were a market for one, yes I’d be so inclined. Unfortunately souls are about as existent as the bloody unicorn, so I’ll stick with having him sign exclusivity rights for his current and future literary works to myself and whatever publishing house I see fit to host his name. Take the contract to a lawyer and see for yourself. It’s probably one of the best deals you’re ever going to get.”

“But it locks me into a five book deal and what if I can’t produce? Do you have any idea how long it took me to write one?”

“Ten years, five books.” Crowley shrugged. “I have faith.”

“At least someone does.” Cas held the contract in his hands, looking down at the words but at the moment they seemed like gibberish. “I’ll think about it.”

“My time is valuable, so think quickly. I’ll be by on Friday for your answer. I might not be the nicest man, but I’m very good. They don’t call me the King for nothing.” And with that, he was gone. Disappeared down the driveway leaving Castiel to contemplate his future.

*** 

Friday came and went, and Crowley never showed. Cas called Balthazar but he didn’t pick up, so he thought maybe the man gave up. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t sure he was ready to sign something like this. He brought it to Gabe who of course shoved him at Sam who gave him appropriate warnings, then offered to sign on as his attorney despite the fact he was in criminal law.

Castiel considered turning him down. He was Dean’s brother and every time Sam came around Castiel hurt. But Sam was around a lot and he and Gabe were doing well and Castiel began to feel like the younger Winchester was family.

“Look Cas,” Sam said, twirling some of Gabriel’s homemade pasta around his fork. He swiped it into the pile of sauce, chewed, and pointed his fork at Cas. “The reality is, you’re probably not going to get a better offer than this, not without nepotism. You might as well take him up on his offer.”

“If he calls again,” Cas muttered.

As if on cue, his phone rang and Castiel took it outside. It was Crowley asking if tomorrow was a good time to meet. Castiel hummed, then agreed and set up a time and place. The café near Gabe’s bar was decent enough, quiet in the afternoons. He checked with Sam, but the Winchester had court so Cas would be on his own.

“You’re smart, you know when you’re being swindled. Don’t sign anything but the original documents and you’ll be fine.” 

Cas nodded and felt like he really was signing his soul away. But what choice did he have. He wasn’t going to teach again, Dean was gone, his father was dead, and there wasn’t much left for him in this town. So why the hell not.

*** 

Rumors and stories of authors having their books so mangled by editors they didn’t resemble the original manuscript floated through his head. But Castiel got his book back and it was good. It was… well the same, actually, with a few minor sentence changes here and there, but otherwise those were his words. The cover was okay, simple but elegant, and his penname, Jimmy Novak, emblazoned on the cover made him shiver with anticipation.

Book signings were next, which meant traveling. Crowley managed to get a decent publisher, one of the Big Six, a decent marketing contract, the works. Two thousand copies in the first week was a decent score. It grew after that. Castiel’s book was racy, but not too racy. It was emotional, but dramatic. It appealed to the gay community which was what Crowley was hoping for and told him so during their meeting in New Orleans.

“It’s become a hit, you know. It’s not often you find something worth reading that’s made for that crowd.”

“That crowd?” Cas pressed, feeling a little insulted.

“Call it what you want, Cas. Your sexuality isn’t a secret of mine, and if we’re splitting hairs here, I’ll fuck a man just as quickly as I’ll fuck a woman. That’s beside the point. The truth is, literature—good literature—for the gay community is lacking. Exposure even more so. I needed a niche and I got one. You’re making money and so am I. Let’s all just be quite happy, shall we?” Crowley ordered a bottle of scotch and waited until Cas was half drunk before he sprung the tour on him.

“…all ending at SDCC.”

Cas frowned, rubbing his forehead. “I’m not sure what that is.” There were so many dates and events and signings and talkings. People wanted him to represent the gay community and he was so hesitant because what would they say? Surely one of them would dig up his past, his firing. He was no poster child for any community.

“San Diego Comic Con. Trust me, it’s the end-all be-all of your fame. Do this and you’ll have thousands upon thousands willing to lap up anything you’re willing to shit out onto paper.”

Licking his lips, Cas stared down at his half-empty glass and sighed. He was doing better now. He had money in his account, his royalties were racking up. He’d done two morning shows and several radio interviews. But…it was lacking, somehow.

No, not somehow. He knew exactly how.

“Ah yes okay fine.” He shoved his untouched plate away. “Just… just email me the dates.”

Crowley quirked an eyebrow at him. “Something wrong?”

“No I…” Cas sighed and realized the absolute last person he wanted to talk to this about was Crowley. “I should go. Thank you. For dinner. I’ll be in touch.”

Crowley didn’t protest when Cas got up and left. He looked for a cab but none to be found, and decided a walk felt better. His hotel was on the same street anyway, and he needed the air. It was muggy and rainy, but the evening was cooler than he expected. He wore his trench, as stupid as he felt in it, but it was like a security blanket. Something to keep him grounded. With Sam and Gabe back at home and him on the road, it felt like his life was once again spinning out of control.

Just before he reached the hotel, there was a bakery. For some reason the smell of fresh bread and pastries was too much to resist, so he stepped inside. There was a small line, nothing intimidating, so he decided to grab a few croissants and a cup of coffee to go. He wasn’t going to sleep anyway, so he might as well give himself the boost.

It was as he stood there he saw two people in line, a mother with a little boy, he paused. The little boy looked familiar. He had to be perhaps nine or ten, wearing a black t-shirt with a rock band logo Cas didn’t recognize, tight jeans and his hair spiked up.

Dean. He looked like Dean.

Then it got worse. The kid raised his hands, pointed to something in the pastry cabinet and signed, ‘That. I want.’

The mom, a pretty brunette with a wide smile, gave a shrug. ‘Fine. After dinner.’

Cas felt his breath catch in his throat. Fuck. He missed Dean a lot. So much he thought he might actually implode. In the back of the shop, the bathroom door opened and Castiel was certain his heart was going to explode on the spot. It was Dean. Dean in jeans and a tee and looking well and fit and everything Castiel missed. He stepped behind a small crowd of people just before Dean looked his way.

Then to Castiel’s horror, he bent down and gave the woman a kiss on the cheek. Waving his hand at the kid, he signed, ‘Did you choose?’

The kid pointed to the glass and shrugged.

Dean gave him a thumbs up, then signed something to the woman Cas couldn’t see. The woman signed back. They continued their conversation as they moved closer to the person behind the counter. Castiel felt his entire body going limp, numb. They were a cute family, if he was looking at it objectively. Deaf kid, Deaf mom, Deaf dad. A sort of unit Dean had always wanted, somewhere that include him, where he wasn’t an exception. Where he wasn’t accommodating himself to be understood, and to understand.

Castiel felt his head spin and he turned on his heel. A little tower of plastic coffee cups wavered and a few toppled down. He thought about stopping to pick them up but everyone began to look his way. Even Dean.

He bailed. Hitting the door, he broke out into a run as his shoes hit the pavement. They clacked against the concrete hard as he bolted toward the hotel, and made it to the lobby doors before a hand closed on his shoulder and spun him around.

He didn’t need to see the person to know who it was, and he spun, attempting to catch his breath as Dean steadied him.

“Cas,” he said, and the voice went straight to his gut because my god did Castiel miss him. So damn much.

“Hello Dean.” His voice came out ragged, and he was glad Dean couldn’t really hear it. “I um…”

“You ran.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea you were here in town. Sam said he was trying to catch you but…”

Dean held up a hand. “I’m sorry it’s dark out here, I’m not catching any of that.”

Frustrated, Cas raised his hands and began to sign with a skill he’d forgotten he had. ‘Sam told me you left. I stayed for a while but when you didn’t come back…’ His hands stilled a moment. ‘I wouldn’t have come here if I knew I was interrupting.’

Dean raised an eyebrow. ‘You practiced.’

Cas felt his heart sink into his stomach as his hands said, ‘Every day.’ Then he saw the woman and kid walking up behind Dean and he felt even worse. God. What was happening? He couldn’t take this. 

Dean looked back, almost surprised, like he’d forgotten he was there with his little family. He looked at Cas then, his eyes lit up with pain. ‘Cas, this is Lisa and Ben.’

Cas swallowed and nodded. ‘Nice to meet you.’

Lisa nodded, then lifted an eyebrow to Dean who signed, ‘Later. Give us a minute?’

Lisa nodded and started away, and Cas took a step back. “I can’t do this Dean,” he said and signed. “I’m sorry. I can’t ruin this for you, and I can’t pretend I’m okay with it. I thought when I came back… but no, because that expectation was so stupid so it’s no excuse.”

“Cas.” It came out a broken whisper.

Shaking his head, Cas turned and looked at the lobby doors. “I’ll be leaving soon anyway. Got a book deal and everything, doing some tours. Ending up at SDCC,” the letters spelled out with shaky fingers. “I um… bye. Dean.”

Then he was gone. He half-expected Dean to chase him. No, he didn’t expect it. He just desperately wanted it. But he was alone in the lobby, and in the hall, and in his room. He dialed Sam’s number but didn’t have the courage to press send. Same with Gabe’s. He was so screwed. He was alone. Mostly, he was so fucking lonely.

*** 

He never did tell Sam or Gabe about the run-in. In his dreams he saw Dean with that woman. Lisa. With the kid. He saw Dean’s conflicted expression. Sometimes he saw Dean in his mind living in a happy home. Wife and kid and everything he’d been denied as a child and he understood why Dean didn’t come after him.

It didn’t take away the ache though.

SDCC came quicker than Cas expected, and it was more overwhelming than he could possibly begin to fathom. There were people just absolutely everywhere. In costume, in clothes, some barely dressed. Some if he didn’t know better he wouldn’t assume they were actually human.

His panel, what they called it, would be him sitting at a table and talking about his book, then taking answers from fans. Which was a concept in itself. He had fans. Fans of his work. And they’d be here. His book had only been out a few months, how could anyone actually care?

His panel was at capacity. There was a line for the questions and a moderator at the mic who would be monitoring what people wanted to say. The people in the back told him to be funny. Fans liked witty sarcasm, and inappropriate humor.

Cas was none of those things. He was awkward and shy and totally confused.

They seemed to like it though. His deadpan answers made people chuckle and well… it was nice.

Then came the kid. He was about sixteen and instead of stepping to the mic, another man did. “This is Jake, and I’m his interpreter.”

Castiel came around the table and stood at the edge of the stage. ‘Go ahead Jake,’ he signed, and Jake grinned.

‘You know ASL?’

Cas shrugged, and was offered a mic and told he needed to speak for the benefit of the audience. He attempted to sign with one hand as he did so. “I’ve known it for about two years now. I’m not perfect.”

Jake still looked like it was damn Christmas. ‘I have two questions,’ he signed, and the man interpreted. Castiel didn’t even acknowledge the person at the mic. ‘The first is, the main character of Carver Edlund in your book. He’s a demon, but his personality is so specific. Was he inspired by anyone you knew?’

Castiel felt his face grow red. Carver Edlund, otherwise known as Chuck Shurley and yeah. But how could he possibly tell that? “My father,” he said and signed. “He wasn’t a great man. He had a lot of inner demons and I used a lot of that as inspiration for his character.”

‘Harsh,’ the kid signed.

Castiel laughed. “Yeah.”

‘My other question is the main character of Jen. Was he inspired by anyone? I mean, I kind of hope so because it’s not often a person like me—Deaf and gay—gets to relate to someone like that. So I was hoping it was someone you knew.’

“I think all writers base a lot of their characters on people they know. They grow eventually into their own person, their own being, but I can say that for Jen especially, he’s based off someone I know and love dearly. A person who, like Jen, had a childhood undeserving of the incredible trauma and in his own right, is a hero. In real life, whether he knows it or not, the inspiration for Jen saved my life and I don’t think I can love another person the way I love him.”

It was candid. Too candid. And Castiel suddenly felt like he might have shot himself in the foot. But the audience lapped it up and clapped and the kid looked so pleased that Cas suddenly didn’t feel bad or worried anymore. Just… happy.

The rest of the panel went great and he felt warmed up and more comfortable. In the back after his session he had two text from Gabriel. It’s already on youtube, you sappy asshole. You were great.

Cas couldn’t help but grin.

He was alone in the room for the moment, a glass of bubble water in his hand and his head leaning back on the sofa. The door opened and he didn’t bother to open his eye until a foot kicked his. Head snapping up, his eyes went wide.

It was Dean.

‘What…’ Cas fumbled and put the glass down so he could talk properly. ‘What are you doing here?’

“Art,” Dean said aloud. He reached down and hauled Cas up to his feet. “I saw your panel.”

Swallowing thickly, Cas said, “I’m pretty good at signing. You don’t have to speak.”

Dean took a step back and cocked his head. ‘Is that why you ran?’

Running a hand through his hair, Castiel gave a shrug. “I don’t…” He rubbed his face. ‘You were happy. With her.’

“Lisa?” he asked aloud. When Cas nodded, Dean laughed. “Cas, I’m gay man. Like… I like dick. Yours in specific, but just because I don’t have you doesn’t mean I’m going to suddenly love vagina. It’s not me.”

Castiel blinked rapidly. “So who was she?” His hands twitched the signs along with the words.

“A friend. I was helping tutor her kid. He lost his hearing a year ago and he wasn’t doing so well with sign language.”

‘I feel so stupid.’

‘Yeah.’ Dean took a hesitant step forward. “Why did you think I’d replace you like that, Cas?”

“Because…” he hesitated. ‘Sam told me. Told me about you, about how you learned to speak and why you had to and I thought you know… maybe if you found somewhere to be you. Where you didn’t have to speak or change who you are just to be understood, you could be happy. Content.’ He had to spell out the last word because he didn’t know the sign for it.

Dean’s face fell, pained, hurt. His hand reached out for Cas, then dropped before he touched the other man. “Are you happy?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He waved his hand around the room. “All this. Fame. Fans. Money. Are you happy?”

Castiel let out a bitter, angry laugh. “Dean, the only moments I’ve ever been happy in my life were with you.” He sighed. ‘With you.’ He hadn’t meant to make contact with Dean, but the moment his finger touched the center of Dean’s chest, he couldn’t take it away. A spark shot through him, the old memory of Dean’s arms around him and his knees went weak. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep himself upright, but he couldn’t bring himself to step back. “Dean,” he whispered.

Slowly, giving Cas time to pull away, Dean reached up and closed his fingers around Castiel’s wrist. He gave the other man a tug gently, but Castiel fell into Dean’s chest as though he’d been shoved there with the force of a hurricane. Suddenly Dean’s arms were around him, and his face was in Dean’s neck, and he was breathing in the familiar smells and feeling that warmth only Dean could provide. That comfort he’d only ever known in these arms. The sort of comfort that melted away the pain from the past like nothing else could.

Castiel didn’t realize he was crying until he pulled back and Dean used a thumb to swipe away the tears. He was embarrassed, confused, and not entirely sure what this whole thing meant. God, he was scared. So damn scared. After losing everything, everything he’d built for himself, and after his brother had tried to take away his sanity, his safety… now he was here?

It seemed too good to be true. But Dean was kissing him now. A gentle, undemanding kiss, one that was full of love and an ache because it was clear Dean missed Cas with the same ferocity. “I love you, you moron,” Dean said as he pulled away. “There’s never been anyone else.”

*** 

They were at the hotel bar. They’d been there for an hour, Dean watching patiently as Castiel’s slow hands formed the signs to tell the stories of everything he’d seen and done with his brother. Most of it was fingerspelling, half the things not having signs, the other half not yet in Castiel’s vocabulary. But Dean was reading his lips and listening with his aides turned up as far as they could go, and they were half-drunk and by the time they finished their crappy bar food, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Castiel barely managed to find the room key before Dean was on him, on him like he was afraid if he let go, Castiel would be gone forever. The door shut with a click, and Dean shoved Cas against the hard wood, shoving his thigh between Cas’ legs and hitching it up so it was tight—only just tight enough—against his balls. Cas reached up with a shaking hand to set the deadbolt before Dean ripped him away, dragging him by the front of his shirt to the bed.

Normally Castiel liked to be in charge, to take the lead. He’d spent so much of his life having it decided for him that he didn’t like to give that power up. But right now with Dean on him like this, ripping at the buttons on his shirt, fumbling with the zip on his jeans, it felt nice. Fucking so nice.

Dean palmed Castiel’s hard cock through his boxers, the flat of his hand driving up and down the shaft that was bobbing against his stomach. Every inch of his skin was on fire, craving, aching for Dean to touch him. He needed the other man absolutely everywhere.

“Fuck,” Cas hissed through his teeth as Dean’s hand dove into his boxers. They bypassed his prick, his aching balls, and went right for the sweet spot. The tip of Dean’s finger was wet from Castiel’s precum, and he slipped it along the sensitive area between his balls and his opening. Cas hissed and arched his back.

“I didn’t um…” he said, trying to catch Dean’s attention. Dean felt the vibrations on Castiel’s chest and looked up into the watery, half-lidded blue eyes. His gaze focused on Cas’ mouth. “Do you… because I wasn’t… I don’t…”

Dean swallowed, then nodded. “I saw your poster, Mr. Novak.” He reached into his jeans before making a last minute decision to ditch them altogether. In the palm of his hand was a condom and one of those two serving lube freebies from the condom box. “Let’s just say I had my hopes up.”

“Oh fuck,” Cas said as Dean resumed his ministrations. Normally there would be foreplay. Blowjobs all around, nipple sucking, ball massages, the works. But right now it had been too fucking long and there was time enough for that later. Much later. Right now what mattered was feeling Dean slide the condom on to Castiel’s aching prick, then coating it with the entire contents of the tiny lube bottle.

Straddling Cas and pinning his hands up above his head, he looked down at his wanton lover. “Ready?”

Cas licked his lips, then nodded and arched his hips up. The tip of his dick hit Dean in the wrong spot, and he let out a hiss when Dean adjusted himself and sank down on the prick. Castiel throbbed hard inside the tight hole as Dean lowered himself. Slow. Slow. Painfully slow. But eventually his ass cheeks sat comfortable on the sides of Castiel’s pelvis.

“I missed you. God I missed you,” Cas said as Dean began to rock slowly.

Dean nodded, then closed his eyes, shutting off all communication for the moment. All that mattered right now was skin on skin, and he began to ride Castiel like it was his damn job. Cas cried out hard, too close to make it count, really, but he could feel himself pounding the inside of Dean’s ass, right on Dean’s sweet spot and Dean was shivering and riding and slapping skin to skin as he took all of Cas inside him.

It felt like eternity, but really Cas only lasted a few moments. He twitched and cried out with his orgasm and his hands fumbled in the blinding pleasure to find Dean’s weeping dick to pump it. Once. Twice. Four times total before Dean hunched over and let out a guttural moan. The spunk flowed, jetting out a few inches and landing on Castiel’s dark trail of hair.

Out of breath, both men attempted to compose themselves as Dean slid to the side and Castiel ripped off the condom. He attempted to toss it into the bin but missed, and ignoring the withered, spunky sight of it lying on the floor.

Dean’s eyes were still closed as he nuzzled next to Cas. For a moment, the writer took a breath. Thought maybe this was a dream. He waited and waited and waited for Dean to disappear, for him to wake up cold and alone in some dirty hotel room with another book signing, another pointless talk to the young fans of his work.

But Dean stayed. His chest rose and fell. The smells surrounding them began to fade but it didn’t matter. Castiel felt like he was home. I L-O-V-E Y-O-U he spelled into Dean’s hand.

The Winchester’s eyes peeked open and he grinned. “I know you do.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” Then Castiel tapped his spread fingers to his chin. ‘Talk. You can sign. We can sign. We can do things your way.’

“Or our way. I’ve never wanted to use my voice for someone so much before. You don’t need it, so I want to give it. I’m happy, Cas. Please believe me.”

‘I do,’ Cas signed back, but he was hesitant. ‘My father died, you know. Sam said he sent you a text.’

Dean nodded. ‘He did.’

‘I remember sitting there at the funeral,’ Cas stopped, then switched to speech because he just didn’t have the sign words just yet. “I was staring at the coffin, his withered body inside it. My brothers and sisters were there you know. They even let Michael come under guard. I remember sitting there thinking of all those things my father said to me. That my life was going to end in disaster. I’d never be happy. I was worthless. A sinner. He told me the fates of sinners. Hell. The road to hell. No matter how good my intentions were, they pave the road to hell.” Cas shuddered and didn’t mind when Dean held his hand a little tighter. “I remember wondering if it was true. Because I had this wide road ahead of me. I followed my dreams, and found out nothing compared to being with you. Not teaching, not getting away from my family, not writing. Nothing. The only contentment I’ve had in my life was you. And I thought…”

“I wasn’t coming back.” Dean sighed and propped himself up. ‘I will always come back for you, Cas. No matter what. I don’t care what hell I’ve been dragged to, what life I end up in.’ Castiel blinked, confused and his head spinning, heart ready to burst because there was no hesitation in Dean’s fingers as he signed this. ‘I will always come back to you.’


End file.
